Into Darkness
by badkarma00
Summary: Things are changing for Trip Tucker, as he confronts new problems caused by his choice to leave Starfleet and go in search of his own revenge. Enterprise enters the Expanse, and adds to his troubles.
1. Chapter 1

Foreword

I don't usually do this for fanfic stories, but I decided it was warranted for this one, so here goes.

Most fanfic I write is for a show called Firefly. I've slowed down in recent years, and right now I'm in a sort of block for my final Firefly story.

I've always been an Enterprise fan, and love the fanfic here. I've kicked an idea or two around about it, but never sat down and did anything about writing an Enterprise fanfic of my own.

One day, out of the clear blue, a big ole what if hit me. If you've read my Last Spartan fic, you'll recognize some of my OC's from that story here.

I'm from the south myself, so always identified with Trip more than any other character, except perhaps Malcolm, who, bless his heart, just can't seem to get away from his past.

So I wondered, what would Trip do if Starfleet didn't sent the Enterprise out to search for the Xindi? And what if, just by happenstance, he knew Janos. What might he be willing to do, be willing to give up, for revenge? Pay back?

This story definitely quals as AU, no doubt. It's meant to be the first of perhaps three stories in such an ARC, Lord willin', and the river don't rise. As you read, you'll see a few holes here and there, but hey, I need to leave something for the next story, right?

So, suspend what you know of Enterprise beyond season two, along with your belief in a lot of other things, and consider what would happen.

I hope you enjoy.

Sincerely, Bad Karma


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER ONE

_Author makes no money from his work. Okay not to sue him._

"Wha'd'ya mean, we ain't goin' after'em?"

Trip's accent tended to worsen whenever he was agitated, T'pol had noticed. Archer had noticed it too, and he fidgeted slightly.

"It's been decided that _Enterprise_ will remain on station, here in-system, for the foreseeable future," Archer said neutrally. He didn't like it either.

"We lose seven million people," Trip grated, "one of'em my _sister_, not to mention the others aboard who lost people, we know who did it, and we just. . ._sit here_?"

"I argued that _Enterprise_ should at least be moved out-system, as a picket-post if nothing else. No dice." Archer sat back, rubbing his face.

"The fact is, people are terrified that another attack will be incoming," he explained. "As a result, they want us, and the _Columbia_, when she launches, to be here. As protection."

"The best _protection_," Trip almost hissed the word, "is to go out there, hunt these bastards down, and _kill them all_!"

"If I may, Commander," T'Pol interjected, "keeping ships in orbit or nearby for security is a logical move, consider. . . ."

"Was Vulcan attacked, Commander?" Trip's eyes looked like angry laser heads as they turned to bear on her. "Did you just lose seven million of _your_ citizens to a sneak attack? No? And, in case it's slipped your logic, we don't have nearly as many ships as _Vulcan_."

"Trip," Archer's voice took on a warning timbre.

"What?" Trip almost snarled.

"I understand how you feel, Trip," Archer tried to keep his own voice reasonable. "But orders are ord. . . ."

"My home is in ashes, and my baby sister is _dead_," Trip said flatly. As if a switch had been flipped, Trip was suddenly far more calm. Jonathon Archer felt uneasy, almost wary. "Do you _really_ wanna tell me how much you understand how I feel?" Jon nodded, acknowledging the point.

"Trip, I understand the need to _hit back_," he said with more force. "But our orders are _firm_. We're staying here, Commander." Using Trip's rank, Archer hoped to bring the discussion back to a more professional level.

"I'm not," Trip said suddenly, a strange look appearing in his eyes. "I'm done, Jon." He reached up to his shoulder, removing the pips of his rank, and tossed them onto Archer's desk.

"I quit."

Before Archer could frame a reply, Trip was gone.

STE

Trip was packing when his door chime sounded. He sighed, wondering who it was. Jon had already been there, trying to talk Trip out of resigning. Trip had simply showed him the letter he'd already sent to BuPers. Archer had looked crushed when he left, but Trip's anger refused to give an inch.

"Come," he called, finishing up. Starfleet was sending a shuttle for him. It was, in fact, already on it's way up, but Trip was ready to go.

The door slid open, revealing T'Pol.

"May I enter?" she asked calmly.

"Sure," he waved her in. "And I didn't mean to be so. . .well, I'm sorry," he looked her in the eye. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"Apology accepted," she nodded. "The Captain has informed me that you have already submitted your resignation."

"Yep," he nodded. "Shuttle's on the way to pick me up, matter o' fact."

"I will be. . .disappointed, to see you depart," T'Pol said evenly.

"Why?" Trip looked puzzled. "I mean, I give you more trouble'n anybody, T'Pol. Sure, it's mostly just good natured ribbin', but, I figured you'd be happy to be rid of me."

"You would be mistaken," T'Pol replied. "I will. . .miss you, Commander."

"Reckon I'll miss you too, T'Pol," Trip nodded. "You've made a real difference in how _Enterprise_ has managed, these last two years. I ain't sure we'd o' did so well, you hadn't been with us." T'Pol merely nodded, for once accepting the human practice of compliments without comment. Knowing that he meant it probably influenced her decision to do so.

"You should reconsider," T'Pol told him. "Allow yourself time to process your anger. Make your decision when your anger is in abeyance."

"My anger won't be in abeyance until the Xindi are atoms," Trip told her darkly. "I aim to find a way to make them sorry they ever heard o' Earth."

"And how do you propose to do that?" T'Pol asked, her Eyebrow of Extreme Skepticism approaching her hair line.

"Ever hear the story of Daniel Webster?" Trip asked.

"I have not." Just then the com sounded.

"Commander, your shuttle has arrived," Hoshi called.

"Thanks, hon," he called back. "You be sure and keep ole Malcolm in line for me, now, hear?"

"I will, Trip," Hoshi said. On the bridge, tears filled her eyes.

"Good girl." He released the button. The door chime sounded, and Trip opened it to reveal two ratings.

"Thanks, fellas," he said politely as they took his things.

"Welcome, Commander," one said as they departed. Trip turned back to T'Pol.

"Reckon this is where we part ways, T'Pol," he smiled slightly, but the gesture never reached his eyes. "Since luck is illogical, I will simply say "_Dif-tor heh smusma_, _T'Pol t'Ti'Valka'ain_," Trip said, his hand raised in the ta'al. T'Pol's eyes widened in surprise, but she returned the gesture.

"S_ochya eh dif_, _Charles of Earth_" she intoned solemnly. "I will inquire of this. . .Webster," she promised. Trip smiled sadly.

"You do that, Darlin'."

STE

"I signed less paperwork than this when I joined," Trip muttered to himself. At least they were finally releasing him. He'd been held hostage for two days while Jeffries, Gardner, and finally, Forrest himself had tried to convince him to stay.

"Dammit, Tucker, it's ridiculous that you're leaving, when we need men like you more than ever!" Forrest had lost his temper in their final confrontation.

"Why?" Trip had asked.

"We need people who can get ships out of the docks and into space!" Forrest had almost yelled.

"Why? So they can waste away in orbit?" Trip had shot back acidly. "If you were building ships to go out, hunt down the Xindi, and destroy them, then I'd work my fingers to nubs to get it done."

"But you ain't."

And that, as they say, had been that. He'd been officially released the next morning. He was just now finishing up three hours of out processing.

He had shipped most of his belongings into storage, keeping only what he needed to get by. He had a lot of pay coming, more than he'd realized. That was good, he decided, since he had a lot to do.

Starting with a shuttle ride.

STE

Trip exited the main building of the Miami Shuttle Port, and walked to a waiting taxi.

"Downtown," he ordered. The driver looked at him in the mirror, question in his eyes.

"Just downtown, for now," Trip repeated. "I need to have a look around."

"Yes, sir," the driver nodded. Trip looked without really seeing anything, noticing absently that the Xindi attack hadn't damaged anything nearby. He pulled out a PADD, working until the cab driver coughed lightly. Trip looked up.

"Anywhere in particular now, sir?" the driver asked. Trip looked around, and smiled suddenly.

"This is good, in fact," he replied. He handed the man his credit voucher.

"Add twenty to it, for you," he ordered.

"Thank you, sir," the driver nodded. "I appreciate it." Trip stepped out of the hover cab, walking up on the sidewalk, where he examined the light pole in front of him.

OLD BOOKS, the small sign proclaimed. There was an address, but no phone number. Trip smiled slightly.

"Some things don't change," he said more to himself than aloud, and started walking. The address wasn't far, and ten minutes of walking found him standing in front of a truly ancient building. Taking a deep, calming breath, Trip entered the store.

The small bell above the door alerted the clerk to his presence. He waited patiently, examining the books available for sale, until. . . .

"May I help you?"

Trip turned toward the voice, to find himself looking at one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. And that _included_ T'Pol.

Tall, muscular but still very feminine, dark hair framing a tanned face, she stood waiting. Trip mentally shook himself.

_Not what you're here for_, Tucker, he told himself.

"I'd like to see him," Trip told her softly.

"Him?" she asked, looking puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't. . . ."

"If you don't, then I'm in the wrong place," Trip said, disappointment tinging his voice. "I'm sorry for bothering you, ma'am." He turned to go.

"Wait," he heard a male voice behind him. Trip froze. He hadn't heard that voice in a long time. Slowly he turned back.

"Hello, young Charles," the man smiled. "I am, somehow, not surprised."

"Hello, L. . .sir," he amended.

"Please, come in," the man waved. "Neera, please see to it that we are not disturbed."

"Yes, m'Lord," the woman inclined her head, eyeing Trip with renewed interest.

"Pleasure meetin' ya, ma'am," Trip gave her his best smile.

"Likewise, I am certain," Neera replied, reminding him of T'Pol.

"Come along, young Tucker," the man behind the counter ordered, amused. "Your charm will be lost upon Neera."

"Do not be so certain, m'Lord," Neera replied, still looking at Trip. "He is. . .unusual."

"You have no idea, my dear," the man laughed. He led Trip through the doorway, and up a flight of stairs. Near the back of the second floor, the store owner ushered Trip into a finely appointed room, where he pointed to a chair.

"Bourbon, if I recall?" the man said.

"Yes, sir," Trip nodded, taking the seat. The man poured them both a healthy drink, and returned. Settling into his seat, the host looked closely at the man before, comparing him to the boy he remembered.

"I'm flattered you remember me, sir," Trip said honestly.

"You are quite unforgettable, Charles," the man sipped at his drink. "What is it that brings you in search of me after so long?" he asked.

"I need your help, Lord Janos." Trip's voice was calm, even cold. Janos nodded.

"I suspect you do, at that," he agreed, taking another sip of his drink. "A rare year, Charles," he held the glass up, allowing light to pass through the amber liquid. "The year before the War. Last bottling for. . .a very long time," he said wistfully. He looked sharply at Trip.

"What is it you require?"

"I intend to hunt the Xindi," Trip said simply.

"To what purpose?" Janos asked, leaning back into his chair.

"Isn't that obvious?" Trip replied, waving his hand in the general direction of the trench west of where they sat.

"You would go, alone, to fight against the race that has attacked the earth?"

"I would go into the fires of_ hell_, if it meant I took the Xindi with me," Trip's voice took on an edge.

"I see," Janos nodded. "Vengeance is often one's undoing, Charles," he cautioned.

"My sister was killed in the attack," Trip told him bitterly. "She never harmed a soul, Janos. A sweet soul, kind to everyone she met. And I swore to protect her."

"And you failed." There was no judgement.

"And I failed," Trip nodded. "There's nothing left but revenge. To build a pyre to the heavens with the bodies of the Xindi."

"I like what I hear from you, Charles," Janos admitted after a moment. "It makes my heart sing to hear a young warrior planning to destroy his enemies. But," he added, "I find myself, puzzled, I suppose. Wondering what has become of the boy who would not kill."

"He grew up," Trip shrugged. "I've learned better, Janos. I almost hate myself for sayin' it, but. . .sometimes, there just ain't no other way."

"That is true, sadly," Janos agreed. "What do you require of me?"

"I need a ship," Trip said simply. "One that can go toe-to-toe with anything out there. And survive."

"And you assume I have one."

"I assume you can _get_ me one," Trip countered. "Whether you will, or not, _that_'s the question."

Janos regarded Trip with a neutral expression for some time. Trip forced himself to be patient, hard though it was. You didn't rush, or pressure, this man. Not if you wanted to remain healthy.

"Three of my own people we killed by these. . ._Xindi_." He made the name sound like a curse.

"What?" Trip was shocked. He didn't think that. . . .

"You thought it impossible, yes?" Janos smiled, bitterly. "Difficult, but not impossible, child. One of them was. . .special, to me." For a moment, a look of pain crossed his features, but it was locked away just a quickly. He looked at Trip again, eyes hard.

"You know what I will require of you." A statement, not a question.

"I do," Trip nodded. He's expected this.

"It is not so bad, Charles," Janos told him. "You will, in fact, find it beneficial, in the long run. Especially if you pursue this course."

"The sadness I see in you does not agree with you, Janos," Trip replied. "But there's only once course for me, now. And I'll pay the price."

"I can use someone like you in my family, Charles," Janos admitted. "You know that I do what I can to limit mankind's determination to destroy itself. Does that not sound worthwhile to you?"

"I'd prefer to concentrate on making sure that mankind can never again be attacked in this way," Trip countered. "Reckon that ain't equally worthwhile?"

"Well spoken," Janos smiled, a genuine smile. "I think we can agree to that. Are you certain you want to pay this price, Charles? There's no going back, you know."

"I remember," Trip nodded. "I will spend the gift wisely, m'Lord," he promised.

"Of that I have no doubt." Looking over Trip's shoulder, he nodded. Trip turned, and saw Neera standing behind him. He'd neither seen, nor heard, her enter.

Before he could speak, Neera grabbed him by the shoulders, her grip unbelievably strong. Trip saw a flash of white, felt a tremendous force slam into his shoulder, and then he knew nothing else.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER TWO

Trip awoke slowly, his consciousness returning in bits and pieces rather than all at once. Even his thought process was foggy at first. Gradually, however, he became aware of certain things.

First, he was in a bed. Or at least a bunk, since the second thing he realized was that he was on a ship. A ship moving at warp.

Rising from the bunk, he managed to sit, shaking his head slightly, which. . .well, hurt. A lot.

"Finally."

Trip's head shot up at the sound of Neera's voice. The buxom amazon was seated at a table, the book she'd apparently been reading now laying on said table as she examined him. She rose, walking the few steps to where Trip sat.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her hand idly stroking his back. For some reason, Trip found her touch comforting.

"Like I been rode hard and put up wet," Trip admitted. "You're pretty strong, lady."

"You will be too," she smiled gently. "Unless I miss my guess, you need to use the head, and then get something to eat. I'll wait outside." With that she rose, and was gone.

"Damn," Trip shook his head again. She was right, his bladder felt like it was going to burst. He took care of his business, then noticed he was pretty ripe. Stripping off his clothes, he stepped into the shower, where he found most of his own things.

Finished, he dressed in his own clothes, and stepped outside into the passage way.

"Well, you sure look better," Neera smiled. "C'mon, let's get something to eat." She led him to the mess hall, where two other people were currently eating. They nodded to Trip and Neera, then continued with their own meal.

Trip had to admit he was impressed. The mess hall would accommodate twenty or so, it looked like, maybe more in a pinch if they were friendly. The ship seemed well built, but then he'd only seen what he assumed was his bunk, part of a passage way, and now the mess hall.

"How long was I. . .whatever I was?" Trip asked, once they were seated.

"Six days," Neera replied calmly.

"Six _days_?" Trip exclaimed. "No _wonder_ I needed the head."

"Yeah," Neera grinned. "For a little while, I didn't think you'd make it, but Janos was sure of you. Said you were made of sterner stuff."

"Good on me, I reckon," Trip said quietly. "So we're on a ship, at warp. Where we headed?"

"We're going to get your ship," Neera informed him. "Well, we're going to where it's being built. Will be built," she corrected herself yet again. "They're actually waiting for us to arrive before they start. Lord Janos assumed you'd want to design and equip it yourself."

"That could take months!" Trip almost stood. "I need to get after the Xindi_ right now_!"

"Sit down, and calm down," Neera told him calmly. "You need the time, anyway, Trip. Is it okay that I call you that?" she asked, almost shyly.

"Sure, ever body does," Trip nodded.

"Thanks," her smile was megawatt. "Anyway. You took a big step a week ago, Trip. There's a lot you have to learn. Not only that, but your body will be going through some changes soon, and trust me, you don't want to be fighting a war, or doing anything else important for that matter, while that's happening."

"What kinda changes?" Trip asked, suddenly wary. Neera looked at the other two occupants of the hall, who suddenly decided they had work to do elsewhere and departed. Once they were alone, she looked back to Trip.

"Look, there's no reason for me to start at the beginning, since you know who Lord Janos is. _What_ he is." Trip nodded, remembering when he first met the. . .man.

"Well then, let's start with where you are right now," Neera leaned forward. "The symbiot has taken hold in your system. It's already purging you of toxins and poisons you've been exposed to over the years, making itself comfortable in it's new home."

"You know, you make it sound like somethin's gonna be livin' inside o' me," Trip commented sourly.

"It _is_," Neera stressed. "The parasite has taken hold of your system and is making changes to your metabolic rate, your aging process, your health, anything that would endanger you, and thus itself. The symbiot protects you, since you are now it's host. You die, it dies. And the symbiot wants to live just as much as you do."

"So that's why. . . ."

"Yes," Neera nodded. "While all that's happening, you're going to have to get used to a new way of life. Doing things the old way won't work anymore in most cases."

"What'cha mean?" Trip asked.

"For one, once your adjustment is finished, and even before, you're going to be a lot stronger. I mean a _lot_ stronger," she emphasized. "What was a firm handshake two months ago will break most mortal's hands."

"Mortal?" Trip frowned.

"You're not a mortal anymore, Trip. Not really. You'll age about a month for every century you live from here on out. You'll never get sick. Injuries will mostly heal on their own with no help from you. Serious or major injuries usually require a transfusion, but little things heal almost overnight."

"That would o' come in handy when I was in Starfleet," Trip grinned. "Seemed I was always gettin' burned or cut or bruised."

"And you still will," Neera nodded. "But usually by the time you've slept, they'll be well on the way to gone."

"Y'know, I knew some o' this," Trip sat back, thoughtful. "But. . .I never imagined how deep this all went." He was trying to grasp the word 'centuries' in relation to his aging.

"Regrets?" Neera asked.

"Too late for'em, if there was," Trip shrugged, surprising her. "I knew what he'd want, and I was ready to pay it," he told her. "He. . .he offered something like this to me once before. Long time ago. I thought about it, but eventually turned him down. Now, thinkin' on it, I wonder if that was a mistake."

"Why?" Neera asked, interested. Janos thought very, very highly of Trip. That alone was enough to spark her interest.

"Mebbe if I'd took him up on it, I'd o' been there where I could o' saved my sister," he said sadly.

"No, Trip, you wouldn't have," Neera told him softly. "Three of us died in the same attack. Some things, even the symbiot can't stop."

"Janos told me," Trip nodded. "Up til then, I didn't think someone like him. . .I guess like _us_ I should say, _could_ die."

"It's difficult to kill one of us," Neera agreed. "But it can be done. Which brings me to another point. You'll need to learn to defend yourself."

"Reckon I do okay at that," Trip smiled.

"Okay won't cut it," Neera said, her voice sharper than she'd meant it to be. "One sure fire way to kill one of us is decapitation. That means that when someone is after you, and knows who and what you are, he or she will try very hard to separate your head from your body." She leaned forward.

"And I'd hate to see that happen," she added, almost purring.

"Wouldn't care much for that myself. Are you gonna be my teacher?" Trip asked, his rogue charm coming to the 'fore.

"You bet I am."

STE

Trip settled in fairly well on the ship. Most people were distant, but friendly, and he had no trouble getting information when he needed it.

Neera had spent a lot of her time with him, but also had other duties, so he found himself in the ship's computer lab, working on the design for 'his' ship. As he studied what he had so far, Neera entered.

"Lord Janos left a message for you," she told him. "He wanted me to open it for you once your were up and feeling better." Without waiting for a response, she keyed in a sequence, and a small screen rose from the desk in front of him. Neera took a seat nearby him.

"It's for both of us, according to his note," she told him.

"Hello, Charles," Janos appeared on the screen, smiling. "If you're seeing this, then you've survived, and are on your way to where the crews will meet you. I own a modest shipyard on one of Andoria's colonies. It will be able to meet any need you may have. I've taken the liberty of securing several items for you already, but your use of them is up to you."

"I want you to design a good ship for me, Charles. I plan on building more than one, and I want them to be able to, as you said, go toe-to-toe with anything out there. In order for you to do that, I've managed to acquire a good bit of information for you. I know that Starfleet has some excellent ideas, and that many, if not most of them, were yours. I also know that Starfleet is woefully behind in things like shields, weaponry, and speed."

"The designs you'll find are among the best money could. . .well, steal," he grinned. "There's tech from Andoria, Tellar, Coridan and Vulcan, along with others that you've not encountered yet, in all probability. Study them, modify them as you see fit. I have complete trust in your abilities. You're one of the smartest men I've ever known, and I've known some very smart men, and women," he added, probably for Neera's sake.

"The Xindi are only one problem humanity faces, Charles," the older man turned serious again. "There's a race called the Romulans, I think you encountered them once, already. They are a brutally violent race, one that believes in conquest and domination. Earth will find itself facing that threat all too soon, I'm afraid."

"There are other threats as well, on the far horizon, but for now, they are distant. We'll deal with them when the time comes." Janos leaned back in his chair, and assumed a thoughtful pose.

"I had decided to stay out of these. . .space affairs, Charles, leaving them to the new Starfleet program, but I see now that was a mistake. One that has cost me, and many others very dearly. I won't make that mistake again. I simply don't have enough trust in Starfleet that they can get the job done." Trip bristled slightly at that, but Janos seemed to have anticipated that.

"Calm down, boy," he ordered gently. "I don't mean I doubt their tenacity, or their bravery. But let's face it. Starfleet is hamstrung by politics, and by Vulcan's never ending desire to keep mankind in his own systems, and undeveloped technologically. That's one of the things that allowed these. . ._Xindi_," he once again made the name sound like a curse, "to kill so many of our people. Starfleet's bravery and ability can't fight both those fronts, and the one in space. You've experienced that first hand, if I'm not mistaken." Trip nodded, forgetting that he was looking at a message, and not a live communication.

"I'm developing a private communications net," Janos continued. "It should be in place by the time you're prepared to depart into the Expanse. Everything we know about the Expanse is included in the materials I've sent along with you, but it's not much. If I can get more, I'll forward it to you." The older man leaned forward, his look intense.

"I know you can do this, Charles. If I had had you in my organization before this, we would already have done it. The truth is, I have many capable people to call on, but they lack your. . .flair, I suppose. Your ability. You're meant to be in space. Meant to do great things. To _lead_. I intend to make sure you have the resources to do those things. Doing them? Well, that's up to you."

"Neera, I expect you to take good care of him while he's learning. Charles, listen to her. She's one of my most trusted people, and she's pretty smart herself. She's also a warrior. And you'll need warriors where you're going."

"There'll be more of us waiting when you reach the shipyard. You may select any of them you wish to accompany you, as all have expressed a desire to go. The ship is yours, so staff it as you like. Neera will be with you the entire way, as will a few others."

"Good luck, son, and Godspeed. Protect us from these threats from the stars. We'll do what we can to protect us from ourselves. Neera, I sent Julio Givens ahead, so he should be there when you arrive. I'm sure he'll come in handy."

"Take care you two." With that, the screen went blank.

"Well," Trip sat back. Neera nodded.

"He's like that," she replied.

"Who's Julio Givens?" Trip asked.

"A long time ago, he was the most sought after hacker on Earth," Neera smiled. "There's absolutely nothing he can't do with. . .well, anything electrical, really, but computers and information systems are his specialty. He'll come in handy."

"Sounds like it," Trip nodded. He opened the additional files Janos had included, and whistled softly as he read.

"He wasn't kiddin', was he?"

"He hasn't had much of a sense of humor since the attack," Neera said softly.

"What happened, Neera," Trip asked. Neera sat silently for a few minutes, clearly evaluating. Finally she came to a decision.

"I don't think he'd mind you knowing," she said. "Lord Janos had a. . .paramour, let's call her. He had been alone for a long time before she came into his life. They had been together for well over a hundred years. She. . .she was in the path of the Xindi weapon, Trip." She looked at him then, her eyes hard.

"His desire for vengeance is just as strong as your's. And Lord Janos is a man who _knows_ how to hate. _Truly_ hate. And he carries a grudge for a very long time, indeed."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER THREE

They were a week into the voyage, and Trip was back to working twenty hour days. The effects on him were less, now, however.

He could literally feel himself growing stronger, and even more agile. The invigorating feelings flowing through him almost made him forget why he was feeling like that in the first place.

Almost.

In the week since he'd gotten Janos' message, Trip had already roughed out the design of the ship, based on the list of available resources. It was an impressive list.

Vulcan shield and engine technology, Andorian and Klingon weapon's tech, Tellarite mineral and hull construction. There were others, as well.

Using all of this, he had designed a ship that was impressive, even by his standards. A double hulled design based on the Tellarite ability to build some of the strongest hulls in space, using a combination of Coridan mineral alloys that were deceptively strong. Twin impulse engines for a truly impressive maneuvering ability, actually based on the Starfleet designs in his head, simply because they were strong, and reliable.

Twin warp engines based on Vulcan designs, with a quad of warp nacelles, two dorsal and two ventral, the combination of which should allow him to push the strong hulled ship to warp seven, if not higher, despite the extra weight.

The double twin engine designs would also provide plenty of power to the ship's shield arrays and weapon pods. Six forward and eight port and starboard weapon's pods would carry two phase cannon, one particle cannon, and one disruptor cannon courtesy of the Klingon's. The pods were offset, allowing for a full arc of fire around the ship.

Six forward torpedo tubes, nine broadside tubes port and starboard, and, his favorite, one aft launcher accompanied by a single weapon pod. Chase weaponry was something sorely lacking in Starfleet, and a disadvantage Trip intended to avoid.

And lastly, but certainly not least, there was the rail gun. Guns, actually. A uniquely human weapon, apparently, and a fine one at that. Forward bow, and port and starboard, aft of the centerline, were three final weapons stations, each with a tri-barrel, rotating, forty centimeter rail gun. Loaded with titanium rounds, a three round burst was all but guaranteed to gut even the biggest fish in the deep dark sea.

Sitting back in his chair, Trip looked at the design. He had to admit, it looked pretty good. He hadn't really thought much about the 'aesthetically pleasing' aspect of the ship, to quote T'Pol, designing it as a pure warship. Still, he had managed to make it fairly attractive, even if by accident.

The main hull of the ship resembled a spearhead or sorts. Or perhaps an arrowhead, he wasn't sure which he saw more of. The four nacelles were tucked in close to the ship, carefully sited to keep them out of the line of fire from the ship's weapons.

Triple redundancies would allow at least one warp engine to function with any two nacelles, in the event they needed emergency warp with battle damage. Too many times he'd had to jury rig _Enterprise_ just to get out of the line of fire. No more of that for Mister and Misses Tucker's golden haired boy, thank you very much.

The bridge was at the center of the ship, where it ought to be for a ship going in harms way. Polarized hull plating would supplement the shield arrays if needed, another system he'd 'borrowed' from Starfleet. The shields themselves would be altered enough not to present a Vulcan signature. No sense in offending the pointy eared sometime allies of Earth, if it could be avoided.

The ship would carry a crew of ninety, with berths for fifty ground troops. In a pinch, they could handle more, utilizing empty cargo areas for bunking. The ship's life support would support two hundred and ten beings of all races until the power ran out.

The 'marines' for lack of a better term, would serve as ship security, and serve on DC crews, among other duties. They would likewise be cross-trained in other ship related duties. A galley with a real chef, a lesson learned from _Enterprise_, would be included, along with a small gym, two armories for the storage of weapons and munitions. The torpedo rooms would store their own weapons, and additional torpedoes would be stored in the inner cargo hold, designed for just that purpose.

All in all, a strong, fast ship to go in harm's way.

And that was exactly where Trip planned to take her.

STE

"I'm impressed," Neera nodded, after studying the ship design. "It's stronger than anything I know of in space."

"That's the idea," Trip nodded. "Once she's finished, and we get her kinks out, I'd be willing to bet there's nothing out here that could even scratch her paint."

"Good, since I'll be behind that paint," Neera smiled. Trip couldn't help return the smile. Neera was an incredibly attractive woman. Despite her muscular form, she had curves in all the right places, and plenty of them.

"Time for you to take a break, I think," Neera ordered. "It's time to start your training." She took him by the hand, pulling him from his chair.

"What kind o' trainin'?" Trip asked.

"The best kind," she grinned evilly.

STE

"Dammit, that _hurt_!"

"It's _supposed _to hurt," Neera grinned down at Trip. "Now get off your ass, and let's do it again."

"Ain't you beat on me enough, today?" Trip groused, rubbing his head as he got to his feet. After a week of Neera's 'practice', Trip was tired of being abused.

"Oh, I'm just getting started, lover-boy," Neera jeered. Trip looked at her.

"Where'd that name come from?" he demanded.

"I've read your file," she gave him a lascivious grin. "You really go for the foreign girls, don't you, Blondie?"

"Ah, you cain't b'lieve ever thing ya read," Trip almost blushed.

"You sure about that?" Neera taunted. "I mean, one was even a _princess_!"

"Hey, now!" Trip shot back. "She was a good gal, once she got th' stick outta'er ass."

"Were you the one who pulled it out?" she taunted again, her sword moving back and forth in lazy figure eights.

"Gentlemen don't tell 'bout such things," Trip replied with all the dignity he could muster.

"And then another one got you _pregnant_ of all things," Neera laughed out right.

"That'as'a a trick!" Trip shot back. "I never touched'er! Well, not like 'at, no way," he added with a mutter. "Wad'n sposed ta happen."

"A likely story," Neera snorted. "Sounds like you were quite the playboy when you were with Starfleet, _stud_."

"Dammit, it wad'n like 'at!"

"You know, you have the _cutest _drawl when you're mad," Neera told him, her smile now a genuine one.

"I ain't mad!"

"Oh, yes you are," Neera shot back. "Now, c'mon, stud. Use some of that anger, and come get me."

Trip shot forward, his practice sword held high. Even as he swung, he knew he was humped. The Amazon easily shifted his 'blade' aside, then grabbed his shoulder, hiplocking him over her, slamming him to the mat. Before Trip could move, she was on top of him.

"Now, isn't this better?" she purred.

"You got a helluva strange way o' flirtin', Neera," Trip finally grinned. "Anybody ever tell ya 'at?"

"Aw, there's that drawl I love so much." Before Trip could think of a comeback, Neera had lowered her head, and was kissing him soundly. After a stunned second, Trip was kissing her back.

Since his. . .change, he'd been feeling more amorous than he could ever remember. He'd always had a healthy sex drive, but now. . . .

"I think practice is over for today," Neera told him from her perch atop him, her voice a bit husky now. "Time for a shower, and something to eat." She stood, hauling him to his feet.

"Sounds like a plan to me," he nodded, then stopped short, looking at her again.

"What is it?" Neera asked. A look of concern crossed her features.

"I. . .Trip, I didn't meant to startle you. I thought. . .I mean you seemed interested, and I really like yo. . . ."

"It's not that," Trip shook his head, cutting her off. "When we first met, I'd o' swore we was just about the same height," he said, pointedly looking _down_ at her.

"I told you there'd be some changes," she shrugged, then grinned. "I'm looking forward to seeing what _other_ changes there are," she waggled her eyebrows.

"Reckon I didn't need no changin' there," Trip told her with a sniff.

"Oh, I do _love_ a confident man!"

STE

"Sir, we're about an hour out," Trip's com panel informed him.

"Thanks, Del. I'll be up in a bit." Trip replied.

"Aye, sir." Trip snapped off the com, and looked around. It had seemed like forever, but suddenly, here he was. He had finished his design, the schematics ready to go. If the shipyard was as on the ball as Janos claimed, then the build should start in a couple days, max. He would have to see the quality of their work, and the speed they accomplished it, before he could estimate how long til completion.

Neera walked out of his shower, naked as the day she was born, water still dripping from her body. Trip's mouth watered as his eyes took her in.

"Like what you see, sailor?" she asked, striking a pose for him.

"I do, indeed," Trip assured her. Since that 'practice' session, he and Neera had spent every night together, and most of each day. She had helped him finalize the plans for the ship, and continued to beat him near senseless with a wooden sword every afternoon. Well, by ship time anyway.

"We're about an hour out," he told her, once he managed to think straight.

"I'll be glad when we get there," she sighed. "This ship is incredibly fast, but it's. . .close." She began to dress, and Trip watcher the smooth, sensuous movements she made as she did so. She looked up at him, smirking.

"Better get that mind on business, mister," she told him. "The real work's about the begin."

"Never thought o' you as work, darlin'."

Her smile could have powered the ship.

STE

As they disembarked, Trip had to admit he was impressed. Janos' 'modest' shipyard was one impressive facility, even from space. Up close and personal, Trip doubted even the Vulcans had better.

The place was spotless. Several people were waiting for them in the airlock, and looked at him expectantly when the lock opened. Finally Neera pushed him gently forward.

"Welcome, Mister Tucker," an Andorian said through a UT. "I am Tarn, the Station Administrator. We've been expecting you."

"Pleasure to meet ya, Mister Tarn. Call me Trip."

"Very well, Trip," Tarn nodded. "May I introduce our Chief Hull specialist, Tek-Grav."

"Mister Grav," Trip nodded, offering his hand.

"I see they have sent an inferior engineer to supervise this useless and wasteful project."

"Indeed they have," Trip smiled. "The quality of work here is so shoddy, I 'spect anything is an improvement." The Tellerite gaped in surprise for a second, then laughed loudly. He took Trip's hand without hesitation.

"I suspect we will work well together, Trip, despite your obvious inexperience and ineptitude."

"This is Gregor Hamish, our Chief Construction Foreman, and shift engineer," Tarn hurried along, anxious to avoid giving Grav any chance to continue his 'compliments'.

"Good to meet ya," Trip said.

"Likewise," Hamish, a human, probably, returned. "I've read most of your publications, Trip. It'll be nice to see them in application."

"Thanks."

"Kron, our security chief," Tarn introduced a towering Klingon next, who opted for a closed fist over his chest salute instead of a hand shake.

"Sir."

"Nice to meet you Kron," Trip returned the salute. "I'm glad to see someone of your capabilities here." Surprise showed in the Klingon's eyes, but he merely nodded at the compliment.

"Our Chief Engineer. . . ."

"Kov!" Trip exclaimed, almost hugging the emotional Vulcan. "What in the world are you doing here?"

"Hello, Trip," Kov smiled, something that would have surprised most people. "Everyone lands somewhere. For me, it was here. Thanks to your brief tutelage, and my own learning aboard the _Vah'klas_, I was offered a place here."

"I'm truly glad to see you," Trip exclaimed.

"And finally, Quartermaster Quaren," Tarn introduced lastly. Trip frowned, seeing the Ferengi.

"I trust that the Rules of Acquisition are in suspension while you're here, Quaren?"

"Of course, Trip," the Ferengi nodded. "One crosses Lord Janos at his own peril, and I do not enjoy peril."

"Wisely said," Trip smiled, and shook hands. "Gentlemen, we have a tall order before us. Secrecy and security are of the utmost importance. I assume you've been briefed on what we're doing?"

"There will be no security violations," Kron said simply.

"We all know what to expect, sir," Tarn assured Trip. "All non-essential personnel have been sent on extended leave. Only the best, most trustworthy workers have been retained."

"Are we going to be short of manpower?" Trip asked, concerned.

"No, sir," Tarn shook his head. "We have four full crews. Work will be done around the clock until the project is completed. This will be the only project the yard works on until it's completed."

"Good news, indeed," Trip smiled. "Well, then. Let's get to work, shall we?"

STE

"This design is overly complicated," Grav commented an hour later, after seeing the plans. "The redundancy you seek is only necessary because of inferior design and materials."

"Interesting you should say that, Grav, since the hull is to be completely of Tellerite construction."

"Of course it is," Gav snorted. "No one else could build such a backward and ridiculous hull, and expect it not to disintegrate the moment if left dock."

"Glad you approve," Trip smiled.

"The engine requirements are. . .excessive," Hamish noted, though not really a criticism.

"I disagree," Kov answered before Trip could reply. "This vessel will be very heavy. As it is a warship, maneuverability will be extremely important. Also, the weaponry will be a constant drain on power, as will the shields. This configuration will accomplish all such needs very well indeed."

"Gentlemen, let's be clear about something, right now," Trip said, addressing the entire group, having waited for Kov to make his own case. "This _is_ a warship, plain and simple. It's designed to be deliberately placed in harm's way, and emerge victorious. This ship will have little interest in exploring, or anything else non-combat related."

"The idea, here, is to build the strongest possible ship, with the best components available in the galaxy. The twin engine design is for several purposes. One, always carry a spare," he grinned. "I never want this ship to be dead in the water. Two, as Kov already mentioned, the power demands by the shields and weaponry planned for this ship will be enormous. Trust me, we'll need the power. And third, as Grav pointed out, the ship is sturdy. Heavy, as Kov put it. In combat, speed is life. A twin engine design should give us speed to spare. And we may well need it."

"Any questions?"

There were none.

"Mister Grav, build me a hull worthy of a warship."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FOUR

Jonathon Archer was restless. _Enterprise_ was currently on patrol around Saturn's orbit, on the same general heading as the approach of the Xindi weapon. _Columbia_, currently in shake-down after a hurry up completion and exit from space dock, was at the half-way point between his ship and Earth.

Various other Starfleet frigates, mostly the older, Warp 3 models, were spread around the rest of the system in a picket line.

Waiting.

Jon sighed again, pacing across the deck.

"Captain, there's a call coming through from Earth," Hoshi informed him. "Sir, it's Commander Tucker's parents."

"I'll take it in my ready room," Jon sighed again. "T'Pol, you have the bridge."

"Yes, Captain," the Vulcan nodded, but remained at her own station. Jon entered his ready room and sat down behind his desk. He took a deep breath or two, then ordered Hoshi to put the call through.

"Hello, Charlie, Ellen," he smiled, though it took effort.

"Jon, how are you?" Ellen asked before Charlie could start.

"I'm bored out of my mind," Jon admitted with a grin. "How are you two making it?"

"It's a struggle," she admitted. "It would be better if we could hear from Trip. Do you know where he is?" Jon's look of surprise was all the answer she needed.

"I. . .I assumed he was with you," Jon replied. "I mean, at your place."

"He's not, and ain't been," a red faced Charles Tucker Jr informed him. "We ain't heard diddly from'im since him and that Limey from your boat came down here."

"Charles, that was Malcolm Reed, and you well know his name," Ellen almost hissed. "And he's one of Trip's closest friends, too."

"Anyway," Charlie would not be put off. "I want to know where he is."

"Charlie, I honestly don't know," Jon told the irate man. "When he resigned, he just said he was. . . ."

"Resigned?" the Tuckers said in unison. "You mean he _quit_?" Charlie demanded. "_Now_, of all times?"

"Yes," Jon was flabbergasted. How could Trip not tell his family all of this? "He was angry that we weren't going after the Xindi, and just. . .walked away. Left. Starfleet held up his resignation two days trying to change his mind, but. . .he was determined to go, I guess. Haven't seen him, heard from him, or even _about_ him, in a month. More like two months, almost."

"My son, a quitter," Charlie muttered. "And just why _ain't_ you goin' after the devils that killed my little girl?" he demanded, turning his ire on Jon.

"I can't," Jon admitted. "I'd love nothing better, and every member of this crew feels the same way, but Starfleet feels otherwise. We're to remain in system in case of another attack."

"That's a load o' crap!" Charlie snorted. "You can't win a war on the defensive. Even those pencil pushing dic. . . ."

"Charles _Anthony_ Tucker!" Ellen interrupted the tirade. "You will _not_ use that language in _this _house! And stop picking on Jon! He's following orders, nothing more. He doesn't get to make those decisions, and you know it."

"Yeah," Charlie, now chastened, admitted. "Sorry, Jon," he added, louder. "I'm just. . . ."

"I understand, Charlie," Jon waved off the incident. "We are too. Some of us lost family in the attack, and all of us want to hit back. I argued right to the point of court-martial, but. . .everyone's scared, and there's no shaking them loose. Not right now."

"That aint' yer fault, though, and I know that," Charlie replied. "Reckon if Trip hadn't o' run off, we'd feel at least a little better."

"If it makes you feel any better, he mentioned that he was going to find a way to hit back," Jon told them. "He was mad as hel. . .er, he was pretty upset about our orders, more so probably than the rest, because of Lizzie. He said there was something he could do, and he was going to do it."

"Did he, now?" Charlie seemed to perk up at that, but Ellen looked even more worried.

"Jon, what _can_ he do?" she asked.

"Ellen, I just don't know," Jon admitted. "I've given it a good deal of thought, and, well, there just isn't anything that I can see. It's a long way to where we think they are, and he'd need a strong, well armed ship to get there. As far as I know, he doesn't have one."

"Might have one by now," Charlie snorted. "I swear, that boy acts 'fore he thinks near ever time," he shook his head.

"Look, I'll put some feelers out, see if I can find out anything," Jon offered. "Now that I know he's not with you, well, I'm worried myself. I don't think he'd go off half-cocked, but. . .well, it _is_ Trip we're talking about," he half grinned.

"Ain't that the Lord's truth," Ellen replied, exasperated. "If you can find out anything, Jon, I really would appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," Jon told her. "And if you two need anything, or just want to talk, don't hesitate to call me, all right? I can't be there, where you are, but I am here, if you need me."

"Thanks, Jon," Charlie smiled for the first time during the call. "That means a lot, son."

"You're welcome. Take care you two." The call was cut, and Jon leaned back in his seat. Where in the hell could Trip be? And what was he doing? Leaning forward, he activated his com.

"T'Pol, please report to my ready room."

"_I am on my way_," came the cool reply. Less than minute later, T'Pol entered.

"Take a seat," Archer ordered, and she did so.

"Do you know where Trip is?" he asked bluntly.

"I do not."

"Any idea at all?" Jon pressed. "I'd settle for an informed guess. His parent's didn't even know he'd resigned." A sculpted Eyebrow of Polite Disbelief rose.

"I find that. . .difficult to understand," she admitted.

"Yeah, that's what I figured, too," Jon nodded. "Did he say anything at all to you before he left that might give us a clue? I mean anything, too." T'Pol recalled their conversation.

"There was one statement he made, almost a riddle. I had intended to check into it, but have yet to do so. I believe it to have been a cultural reference. He referred to it as the Story of Daniel Webster."

"Oh, no," Jon groaned, his head lowering to his desk. "Trip, what have you done?"

STE

"I do not grasp the cultural significance of this statement," T'Pol said after a minute. "Nor am I familiar with this. . .Webster. Is he a historical figure?"

"Something like that," Jon nodded, settling back into his seat. "It's an old Earth story, dating back to the nineteenth century, America."

"Daniel Webster made a deal with the Devil. He then tried to get out of it, having gotten what he wanted. He failed, however."

"I fail to see how a fictitious account of an agreement reached with a mythical figure helps us to understand what Commander Tucker has done," T'Pol stated.

"Trip has apparently made a deal with his own version of the devil, T'Pol," Jon explained. "Who or what that might be, I don't know. I wish I did, but. . .nothing comes to mind. And I dare to say I know Trip better than anyone else, outside his family. And I don't know about all of his family," Jon admitted. "He and I have been close for a long time."

"Indeed," T'Pol nodded. "He has spoken often of you with great affection. It is my belief that Commander Tucker looks upon you as he would family."

"I'd like to think so," Jon smiled slightly. "I admit that means a lot to me. Thanks, T'Pol."

"You are welcome," T'Pol replied.

"I have no idea what to tell Charlie and Elaine," Jon said. "Trip's parents," he explained at T'Pol's Eyebrow of Polite Inquiry.

"I would advice against telling them that their son had made a deal with the. . .devil. I suggest that would merely increase their state of unrest."

"You said a mouthful," Jon acknowledged. "Ellie's already worried sick, and I haven't seen Charlie so worked up since the last time the Dolphins lost to the Bucs."

"Football reference," Jon supplied at another Eyebrow. "Sporting reference," he added when the Eyebrow remained raised.

"I see," T'Pol replied, the Eyebrow returning to it's rightful place.

"You take the bridge, rest of the shift," he ordered. "I'm going to start making some calls, see if I can track ole Dan Tucker down. At least find someone who's seen or talked to him, lately."

"Old Dan. . . ." the Eyebrow of Polite Inquiry was back. "I understood that Commander Tucker was named Charles, as a tradition of. . . ."

"Another cultural reference, T'Pol," Jon smiled slightly. "A very old song from Trip's neck of the woo. . .er, from where Trip was born and raised."

"I see," T'Pol replied, standing. "I must look into both these cultural references. Perhaps they will aid me in better understanding Commander Tucker's thought process."

"Good luck with that one," was the snorted reply.

STE

"Mister Grav, your team certainly works well, and quickly. My compliments," Trip told the stout engineer.

"Not that you would recognize quality work, of course, but I will pass along your less than knowledgeable comments to my workers," Grav sniffed.

"Be sure and tell'em I only said that to avoid pointing out that a human crew would already have the hull supports in place," Trip suppressed a grin. He really liked Grav.

"I'm sure they would, provided they could tell the difference between a spanner and a bolt gun," Grav shot back. "Considering your last ship, I'm surprised you're here to oversee the construction of this one."

"Well, sometimes we get lucky," Trip shrugged. "And, the ship did a lot better after we sent all the inferior Tellerite engineers packin'."

"I find it doubtful that any quality member of my race would lower himself to work in a human ship yard. Though there are some rabble that have been cast out as disreputable who might have been desperate for employment."

"That might explain the inferior work," Trip agreed, then turned serious. "What's you best estimate on the hull completion?" he asked.

"It will be finished when it's finished," Grav growled, then added, "which will be in approximately two of your weeks, if this low quality equipment manages to hold up to the stress of being used by properly trained and experienced crews."

"Thanks, Grav. I'm impressed."

"Of course you are," Grav snorted. "Another insult I shall have to pass along to the workers."

"Of course," Trip grinned as he walked away.

STE

"Sir, I believe we have observers," Kron reported softly.

"How so?" Trip asked, looking around.

"Not here, on the station, but out there," Kron waved to the outside. To space.

"We have had intermittent contact with a small bogey. It slips in and out of our sensor nets, leading me to believe the interloper is a stealth vessel, or perhaps cloaked."

"I don't like the sound o' that," Trip mused. "Suggestions?"

"Send out the fleet and destroy it at once," Kron replied without hesitation.

"Uh, we don't really have a fleet, Kron," Trip pointed out. Politely. He'd learned not to insult Klingons.

"Ah, yes, I forgot," Kron looked chagrined. "Perhaps we can use an in-system vessel, such as the kind used to maneuver ship components into place?"

"Hm," Trip considered that. This was really a question for Tarn, as the Station Chief, but. . .Trip was in charge of the project.

"I suppose you and I could just happen to ease out there," Trip smiled suddenly. "You know, just to see what the ship looks like from space."

"Indeed," Kron nodded his agreement, a slight smile forming on his own features. "I will be ready in ten minutes," he promised.

"I'll see Tarn about a shuttle, then."

STE

"And just where are you going?" Trip turned to see Neera, arms crossed under her impressive bust, looking more than a bit put out.

"Just out for a little tour," he said easily.

"You cannot lie to me, Charles Anthony Tucker."

Uh-oh. Full name. Not good.

"Well, Kron suggested we'd get a better view o' the ship if'n we. . . ."

"Are you aware that your accent worsens when you lie?" Neera interrupted, now walking toward him. "You cannot risk yourself like this, Trip. You're in charge of this entire project."

"I been in space more'n on'a ground," Trip replied, wincing mentally at his lapse in speech.

"You're going to check on the bogey reported by the sensor net." It wasn't a question.

"Well, yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "Might be. I mean, you know, happen there's anything really out t'er." _Dammit_.

"Not without me you're not." _That sounded pretty final_.

"Okay," he acquiesced without a fight. He couldn't win it anyway. But maybe, if he was quick. . . .

"I'll be back in five minutes," the beautiful Amazon informed him. "If you leave before I return, there will be. . .consequences."

"Wouldn't dream of it, darlin'." _So much for that_.

"See that you do not."

STE

"Why is the. . ._woman_, accompanying us," Kron demanded politely. As politely as a Klingon could, at any rate.

"The _woman_," Neera almost seethed, "will be glad to kick your Klingon _ass_ up between your shoulder blades if you refer to her that way again." A look of clear disbelief, accompanied by a faint look of derision, appeared on Kron's face.

Five seconds later, both looks were gone, as he examined his female nemesis from the floor of the airlock.

Fifteen feet away.

"Anything _else_ you want to say about the _woman_?" Neera asked sweetly. Trip winced. _Please shut up, Kron_, he pleaded mentally.

"Only that I am glad you are on my side," Kron admitted, rising to his feet. "I will not question you again."

"Thanks," Neera smiled, friendly again. Trip sighed in relief.

"Let's go," he ordered.

STE

Twenty minutes later, Neera looked at the screen before her.

"We are in the approximate location of the last sensor blip," she stated.

"Indeed," Kron confirmed. "And that blip was," he consulted the ship chrono, "fifty-seven Earth minutes ago."

"Was there any way to get an approximate heading?" Trip asked from the pilot's seat.

"No," Neera shook her head.

"The bogey appears, and then is gone just as quickly," Kron noted. "It is possible that it is a sensor ghost, but. . . ."

"But sensor ghosts don't move," Trip finished for him.

"Indeed."

"I'm open to ideas," Trip announced.

"I wish I had one," Neera replied. "A shuttle like this isn't really the best way to look for something."

"True, but it also presents a non-threatening presence, if whatever we're looking for is determined to stay unknown," Kron pointed out.

"Have you ever had trouble with sensor ghosts before, Kron?" Trip asked, changing their heading slightly.

"No, Captain, we have not."

"I ain't a Captain, Kron," Trip chuckled. "Just. . .Trip."

"You will be a Captain, once the project is finished," Kron pointed out. "And that ship will need a security officer," he added. Subtly wasn't really a Klingon trait.

"Are you volunteering for the job?" Trip asked, smiling.

"I would consider it a rare honor," Kron replied, sincerity ringing in his voice.

"Really? How come?"

"There are no secrets on a space station," Kron said. "We know where you are taking your vessel. The odds will be against you before you clear dockage. A glorious battle is looming. I would take part, if allowed."

Trip considered that. He hadn't, before. Not really. All he had thought about was his need to destroy the Xindi, erase their threat to Earth.

"We'll see about it, then," Trip settled for saying. "Reckon we better concentrate on. . . ."

"Sensor contact!" Neera exclaimed. "Close aboard, three-seven-two, mark nine-one." Trip instantly changed course.

"There!" Kron pointed through the view screen.

Before them a shimmering form, almost as if a curtain had risen, then lowered, revealed an oddly shaped craft, heading from their port to starboard.

"Never seen that one before," Trip admitted.

"Nor have I, that I recall," Kron nodded. "Weapons signature?" he asked Neera.

"No," she shook her head. "Range is. . .damn, it's gone. Estimated range, ten thousand kilometers."

"Interesting," Trip mused. "Well, this could be a problem, all right. What to do?"

"The station has armaments," Kron replied. "It is possible that a spread of fire could disable the cloaking technology, if not the ship."

"Worth the risk?" Trip inquired, looking around him.

"Unknown," Kron admitted. "It may be that all we do is attract unwarranted attention to ourselves, and our project."

"Kron, has this happened before?" Neera asked, her earlier ire at the hulking Klingon no where to be seen or heard.

"No, it has not. We are far from any regularly traveled corridors."

"So they're probably here on purpose, tryin' to get a look," Trip mentioned. Both his companions nodded.

"Okay, I don't like this," Trip sighed. "It's obvious. . . ." he trailed off as he felt the hair rise on his arms.

"Transporter!" he warned, even as the cabin filled with light.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER FIVE

"Lieutenant Reed, report to my ready room."

"_On my way, Captain_."

Reed must have been on the bridge, since less than thirty seconds later, he was standing in front of Archer's desk.

"Sit," Archer ordered. Reed did so, stiffly erect, and balanced on the front edge of his seat.

"Malcolm, for God's sake, relax," Jon sighed. "You make me tired just looking at you."

"Sorry sir," Malcolm replied. He might have relaxed as much as two millimeters.

"Malcolm, I swear, if you _don't_ relax, I'll hit you," Jon ordered again. The weapons officer allowed his back to come in contact with the chair's.

"Much better," Jon nodded. "After two years, I'd think you'd know that I'm not going to bite your head off, Mal."

"Sir," Reed nodded. Jon sighed.

"I need you to so something for me, Malcolm," Jon decided to get to the point.

"Of course, sir," Reed nodded.

"I want you to find Trip," Jon told the security expert. "No one's seen hide nor hair of him since he left Starfleet. The last thing anyone knows that he did was board a shuttle for Miami, the minute he left the service. Since then, nothing."

"Sir, with respect, that's. . .that's over three months ago. He could be anywhere by now."

"I know," Jon sighed. "Thing is, he hasn't been in touch with his family, any of his friends, and none of the places that would _kill_ to get him to come to work with them have heard from him, either. That's. . .well, I don't like it."

"I understand, sir," Reed was concerned. Trip was his one real friend. The Briton had been stunned to learn that Trip had resigned. And then left without even saying good-bye.

"I hope nothing's happened to him," Jon went on. "Because if it hasn't, then I'm gonna kick his ass for worrying his parent's like this."

"Sir, if I may," Reed spoke after a moment's thought, "the very fact that he hasn't might be a clue that he doesn't _want_ to be found."

"I'm past caring what he might want," Jon replied. "I know he was upset, but, dammit, there are people that care enough about him to want to know he's okay. Not to mention that Starfleet needs him back."

"I find it difficult to believe that Starfleet Intelligence would simply let him walk off without some kind of tail, sir," Reed pointed out. "The man is a walking encyclopedia of practically everything Starfleet knows about Warp Physics. Not to mention he's a bloody genius."

"I thought the same thing, but Forrest and Jeffries both swear on their unborn descendants they don't know where he is," Jon shook his head. "Possible they'd lie, of course, but I don't think so. If he had a tail, he ditched it somewhere."

"I'll do what I can, sir," Reed promised. "I'll start by seeing if Starfleet _did_ have security on him." He stood.

"How will you do. . .never mind," Jon raised a hand. "I don't want to know."

"You really don't, sir."

STE

Trip, Neera and Kron re-materialized in what appeared to be the brig of the unknown ship. Heavy bars separated them from their apparent captors.

"What the hell?" Trip wondered aloud, looking around. Neera merely walked over to the bars, studying them.

"You've got to be kidding," she laughed lightly. Reaching out, she took hold of the old fashioned barred cell door, lifted, and then pulled. Kron's face showed his incredulity as the _woman_ practically ripped the door from it's hinges.

"Hinges are always the weak part," she explained, as if this was an everyday occurrence, tossing the barred door aside. "Well, what are you waiting for?" She stepped through the opening where the door _used_ to be.

"You heard the lady," Trip shrugged, following her.

"I am _truly_ glad she is on my side," Kron shook his head, following.

Neera led the way, moving down the passage to where the controls for the hatchway stood.

"Trip?" she asked. He nodded and reached up to the control panel.

"Tear it out," Neera ordered, always looking for a way to train her. . .her what? She'd come back to that later.

"Huh?" Trip looked at her for a second, then nodded. "Oh, yeah. I'll give it a whirl." Taking the control panel by both top corners, he pulled. . . .

And the panel tore off in his hands.

"Well, how 'bout that," Trip chuckled. Opening the door took longer. The three stepped into the corridor.

"I recognize this type of vessel," Kron told them quietly. "It is an Orion slave ship."

"So they were just waitin' around to grab somebody to sell off as slave labor, 'at it?" Trip asked. Neera looked at him pensively.

"Trip, stay calm," she said gently.

"Oh, I'm calm," Trip shot back. "I'm so calm I'ma kill the first thing I see."

"Trip, anger is bad for our. . .people," she caught herself, casting a furtive glance at Kron.

"'Bout to be bad fer somebody else," he said darkly. Neera suppressed a shiver at the tone of Trip's voice. His slipping accent was a warning sign, and she was becoming concerned. Before she could comment, however, a hulking green alien appeared in front of them.

"Halt!" the giant called, pointing a stun stick at them. Neera heard a deep growl escape Trip's throat, and before she could stop him, he started walking toward the Orion.

The giant green skinned alien didn't bother with a second warning, instead firing the stun rod into Trip's chest.

"Son-of-_bitch_, that. . .that didn't hurt." Trip was surprised that the jolt of pain that he'd felt had disappeared almost as soon as it hit. He smiled suddenly at the Orion.

"Oh, no," Neera almost whispered. She saw Trip raise his hand.

"You, buddy, are in a _world_ o' hurt, you know that?"

The Orion felt his world tilt on it's axis as the puny human in front of him took him by the harness, lifted him with casual ease, and then slammed him head first into the bulkhead, rendering him unconscious. Or worse.

"Trip, you can't let your anger control. . . ." Neera tried again.

"I ain't mad," Trip told her, the ugly smile still on his face. "I'm just _dandy_! You two can do whatcha want. I'm about to open me a _family_ size can o' whoop-ass on this whole ship." With that he turned back to the passageway and started following it.

"We have to keep up with him," she ordered Kron, who was still staring in amazement.

"I have never. . . ."

"We don't have _time_, Kron," Neera said over her shoulder, hurrying after Trip. "We've got to catch up to him before he punches a hole in the hull!"

Kron muttered a shocked curse in his native language, and ran to catch up.

STE

"Hey!" Trip yelled. "I know somebody hears me! Ya'll better come on out, 'fore I come in and get'cha!"

"Trip!" Neera called out again. "Calm down! _Please_!" she pleaded. Trip looked at her in confusion.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. "I mean, it ain't like I'm gonna blow a hole in the. . . ." He was cut off by another stun bolt, which made him wince. Neera sighed inwardly as Trip's eyes narrowed, and their normal blue began to deepen into a more purplish hue. Even as she watched, his jaw line took on a deformed look.

"Too late," she said softly. "Kron, we have to finish this quick." That was all the Klingon needed to hear, reaching over his back for his _bat'leth._ With a roar, he plunged forward into the group of six Orions making their way toward the trio.

Neera followed, knowing that things were about to get interesting.

STE

Trip couldn't understand how he was able to manhandle the Orions, or how he could manage to stay on his feet despite the stun bolts he was being hit with.

And he didn't really care. All he could concentrate on was the overwhelming need to commit mayhem and murder. The need to _sink his teeth into their flesh_.

He swung a roundhouse right at the nearest Orion. The hulking alien blocked the move, or at least tried too. When Trip's blow hit, the Orion screamed in pain, his arm broken completely in two, with a bone now jutting from his forearm.

"Aw, did 'at hurt?" Trip said, continuing to punish the injured slaver. Even after his opponent had hit the ground, Trip continued to pound him, fists inflicting incredible damage.

Realizing that this one was well and truly down, Trip was on his feet, looking for another target. He found one a few feet away, about to attack Neera from behind. Howling in rage, Trip literally leaped across the distance separating them, landing on the Orion's back, where he took hold of the green head in front of him with both hands, and twisted.

The sickening crunch of collapsing bone and cartilage would have horrified the old Trip. The new one simply looked for another target for his rage.

Kron had attacked an Orion that was even larger than himself, swinging his _bat'leth_ in a short arc that ended with the blade slicing his opponent nearly in two. Howling with glee, he continued to wade into the sea of green, three more of the Orion slavers running down the passageway.

Neera, having dispatched her initial opponent, divided her attention between the slaver in front of her, and watching Trip with some trepidation. She had fought in countless wars since joining Janos, but. . .Trip was beyond brutal, beyond anything she'd ever seen.

He was inflicting damage that he shouldn't be able to do, not so soon after. Slamming the heel of her palm into the Orion's chin, she felt his neck give, and allowed him to fall, looking for Trip. She found him just as he turned toward her, and what she saw alarmed her beyond reason.

"Trip, _NO_!" she screamed. He ignored her. Holding a struggling Orion in his hands, Trip's mouth descended on the alien slaver's neck, teeth tearing and ripping the flesh from the being's throat.

"Oh, no," was all Neera could manage as Trip then literally tore the head from the struggling Orion's body, allowing both to fall to the deck.

STE

It took less than two minutes for the three of them to dispatch the crew of the slave ship. Fifteen Orions, literally ripped or cut to shreds, one of them a female, who's face registered surprise right before Trip had punched his fist completely _through_ her green head. He was a terrible sight, covered in blood and gore, his features distorted with rage and more.

The three of them stood, looking at the carnage for a second, then Trip started snapping orders.

"Kron, find the bridge, make sure we're heading to the station. Slowly. See if you can contact the station. We're gonna need some help."

"Yes, m'Lord," Kron nodded, and ran to follow his orders.

"Neera, check the rest of those cell areas. Might be there's more people this bunch has grabbed. Don't free'em, yet, though. We need to make sure they ain't a danger to us and the rest." Trip suddenly felt tired.

"Trip, you need to sit down," Neera said gently. "You. . .you've got to rest," she continued. "You've overtaxed yourself with all this, and your body has taken damage. It needs time to heal."

"I feel fine," Trip shook his head. "Just a little tir. . . ."

Neera just managed to catch him before he hit the deck.

STE

Malcolm Reed sat back in his seat, releasing a frustrated sigh.

Trip had disappeared of the face of the Earth. That was the only explanation.

Starfleet Intelligence had indeed placed a tail on Trip, once his separation of service was complete. Forrest, reluctant to lose track of the best practical engineer in the history of Starfleet, had ordered SI to place a protective detail on him around the clock.

The detail had lost him almost as soon as he had landed in Miami, and had never reacquired him. Agents flooded the area in an attempt to locate him, but a week of searching yielded nothing.

Charles Anthony Tucker III had disappeared.

Malcolm was at a loss to understand it. Trip was a genius, there was no doubt of that. No one who'd seen him in action would ever question that assertion. But he wasn't a trained intel operative. He lacked the training to simply disappear. At least Malcolm _thought_ he did.

And yet, that was exactly what had happened. There was no evidence that Trip had fallen victim to any kind of foul play, nor had there been any ransom demands, which would be expected if he'd been abducted. Malcolm had forwarded a request to Starfleet, on his authority as _Enterprise_ security chief, to place a protective detail around Trip's parents, and a tersely worded message from Admiral Forrest himself had informed him such a detail was already in place.

The message had also ordered Reed to continue his search, using 'any resources at his disposal'. That covered a lot of ground, considering Malcolm's past.

Now, he'd exhausted every means available to him. Every means save one. He hated to even think of contacting Harris, but. . . .

His personal feelings would have to suffer this time. If anyone on Earth knew anything about Trip's whereabouts, it would be Harris.

"Dammit, Trip, you owe me for this one, mate," he said aloud, as he sent a brief, coded message.

STE

Janos looked up as he heard his office door open.

"Apologies, m'Lord, but you asked to know if any inquiries would made into Tucker's whereabouts." Jerl McCann stood at attention before the desk.

"Jerl, will you please relax?" Janos sighed. McCann did so, minimally. Shaking his head in resignation, Janos accepted the PADD McCann offered him.

"Summary?" he asked.

"Captain Archer has been looking for him, sir, but we ignored that, as the two are. . .or were, best friends. Then Lieutenant Reed started looking for him, probably at Archer's order. Reed is very, very good, sir," McCann added.

"And?" Janos waved him to continue.

"He found very little, though he did discover Starfleet's search for Tucker here in Miami. He also asked for a protective detail for Tucker's family. Forrest had already assigned them, as our people had reported some weeks ago."

"Now, though, Reed has contacted his former boss in Section 31." McCann's tone let Janos know he considered this a problem worthy of his own attention.

"What have you done, Jerl?" Janos felt a headache coming.

"Sir, I intercepted the message. Harris never received it." McCann's face revealed nothing.

"What are you planning?"

"Sir, with your permission, Reed needs, deserves, to know that Tucker is in no danger. Nor are his parents."

"Why?" Janos demanded.

"Sir, if Archer, and now Reed, are searching for Tucker, then their attention is. . .diverted, from their current mission, which is protecting us from a further Xindi incursion. I submit, sir, that this is unacceptable."

Janos sat back, considering. As always, McCann made good points. That was his job, of course, and Jerl was one of his absolute best people.

"I assume you have a plan?" Janos asked.

"I do sir," McCann nodded. "I will send a message to Reed as if I were Harris. Reed will want to meet, and I will meet with him. I can explain the situation, or bring him to you. He can then brief Archer, at least as far as you desire, and then he can return to his ship, and his job."

Janos considered that. He didn't want Harris' little band of idiots involved in his business. He could handle Harris, of course, but preferred not to. The man _was_ doing a fair job, the Xindi incursion notwithstanding.

The real question, as Jerl had mentioned, was just how much to tell Reed, and through him, Archer. Obviously the entire truth was out of the question.

"And what is it you suggest we tell him?" Janos asked.

"The truth, as far as it goes," McCann shrugged. "Tucker has taken a private position with a firm that's working to make Earth safe, and he's currently assigned off planet in a project of some importance. Because of security concerns, Tucker is incommunicado, and will remain so until the project is finished."

"And when Reed wants to know what he's doing?" Janos tested.

"He's an engineer," McCann shrugged. "He's working as an engineer."

Janos sat back, impressed. Not a single lie, and yet nicely avoiding the real truth. Charles would have to deal with that in his own time, on his own terms, just as the rest of them had.

"Approved," Janos said firmly. "And I'd been interested in your opinion of Reed, too," he added thoughtfully.

"He won't leave Starfleet, sir," McCann replied confidently.

"He won't be there forever, either," Janos shrugged. "He'll eventually need something else to do. Start a bio on him. I appreciate ability and tenacity. You should know that, Jerl." A rare smile graced McCann's face.

"I'll see to it, m'Lord," he promised. "I'll report back when the meeting is over."

Janos nodded, and went back to reviewing the reports on his desk.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SIX

"Well, that was fast," Malcolm muttered, looking at the tersely worded message from Harris. He memorized it, then erased the message, by-passing Hoshi's station altogether. He then headed to see the Captain.

Jon was in his ready room when Malcolm found him, looking over the latest intel reports from Starfleet.

"What can I do for you, Malcolm?" he asked.

"Sir, I. . .I reached out to someone in reference to Trip. I've gotten a reply, but the only way I can get anything is in a face to face meeting. I'll need to go to Earth for that, Captain."

"The last thing we need is to come under attack without our tactical officer on board, Malcolm."

"I know, sir," Malcolm nodded. "It's your decision of course, but. . .well, if I don't go, there won't be a second chance. That's just how these people work."

"Who are 'these people', Malcolm," Jon asked.

"Sir, you really don't want to know," Malcolm replied honestly. "It. . .it's better for you, sir, if you don't. I wish _I_ didn't know them," he added. Jon could here the bitter sincerity in his security officer's voice.

"Is this putting you in danger, Malcolm?" Jon asked, concerned.

"No more than usual, sir," Malcolm smiled sourly.

"I want you to take someone with you," Jon ordered. Reed shook his head.

"That won't work, sir. If they see someone with me, or even following me, there won't be a meeting. And, as I said, there won't be a second chance, either. It's their way, or nothing, I'm afraid." Jon considered that.

"Someday, Malcolm, you and I are going to have a very long talk about what you did before you became my tactical and security officer."

"It will have to be a distant someday, sir," Malcolm replied. "Distant enough that it won't be a risk to either of us."

"Very well," Jon said after another minute. "Try to get back as soon as you can, though. It would be just my luck that we'd need you while you're gone."

"I'll make it as brief as possible, sir, I promise," Malcolm nodded. "By your leave?"

"Carry on, Lieutenant," Jon waved. As Reed got to the door, Archer's voice stopped him.

"Malcolm?" Reed turned.

"Sir?"

"Be careful, and good luck."

"Thank you, sir," Malcolm nodded.

STE

It was a long shuttle pod ride from Saturn's orbit to Earth, leaving Reed a long time to think. He didn't want to think, however, so he spent the trip trying to relax, preparing himself for whatever happened when he arrived.

The meeting point was. . .strange. Usually Harris tended to meet in crowded, urban areas. Places where a man, or woman, alone could go unnoticed, and disappear in practically the blink of an eye.

Not this time. Reed's destination was simply a set of coordinates, well out into suburban Miami. That alone was enough to convince Reed that Harris knew something about Trip. It wasn't a coincidence that Harris wanted to meet him near the place where Commander. . .former Commander Tucker, had left the grid.

Reed set the shuttlepod down in a vacant field, noticing that a police hover car was on it's way to meet him. That was strange, and would annoy Harris no end.

"No help for it, I guess," Reed sighed. A flash of his Starfleet Intelligence credentials, fake of course, and the _Starfleet _markings on the shuttle convinced the local officer that all was in order, and he left after only a few minutes of polite inquiry, which Malcolm deflected with courteous efficiency. Once that was done, he secured the shuttle and started walking. He absently fingered the dampener around his left arm, beneath his uniform. He didn't intend to take any chances.

"Malcolm Reed," a voice called, and Reed turned to see someone he didn't know looking at him.

"I don't know you," Reed said carefully.

"I know, and I'm sorry about the subterfuge," the stranger nodded. "I'm afraid Harris won't be coming, by the way. He never actually got your message."

"What?" Malcolm couldn't hide his surprise at that.

"I intercepted your message to him, and I'm the one that sent the reply," the man told him. "I promise you, there's no danger to you. It's just that Harris can't help you. Section 31 has no idea where Trip Tucker is."

"And you do?" Reed challenged, his hand not far from his phase pistol.

"Yes. And you won't need that, but keep it if it makes you feel better," the man pointed at the sidearm. "Join me for a bit of lunch, Lieutenant Reed, and I'll bring you up to speed on your friend's whereabouts. As much as I can, anyway." With that, the man pointed to a small restaurant nearby with an outdoor dining area. Strangely empty. Reed looked around.

"We own it, Mister Reed," the man said, as if reading his mind. "My name is Jerl McCann, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, unless I miss my guess, your time here is short. I can't imagine that Captain Archer is pleased to have you away from your post considering the situation. Please, let's go and sit down."

"Who is 'we'?" Malcolm asked, not offering to follow.

"The people your friend Charles Tucker now works for, Mister Reed. And by that I mean employer, and nothing more," he added, at the narrowing of Malcolm's eyes.

"Now, as I said, I know your time is short, so please, join me." Without waiting any more, McCann moved away, toward the small bistro.

Reed followed the man with no further questions. It was obvious they wouldn't be answered. Not yet. He was here to get information on Trip, and somehow this man knew that. He could, of course, be working for Harris, but somehow Reed didn't think so. Harris, and most of his senior people for that matter, were so paranoid that many of their security measures seemed like something out of a cheesy spy movie.

Of course, that might be why they worked, Reed thought suddenly. No one would expect something like that to be used in real life. He chuckled at that little bit of irony.

"Mind if I know the joke?" McCann asked, smiling.

"Just the way I decided you probably don't work for Harris," Reed said, explaining briefly. McCann laughed outright.

"You know, that never occurred to me, either," he admitted. "You're pretty sharp, Lieutenant," he said as they reached a table. McCann sat down, and indicated Malcolm sit as well. A waitress appeared almost at once.

"If you like pulled pork, this is definitely the place to get it," McCann mentioned. "Cooked in pineapple, of all things."

"Really?" Reed looked at the waitress, who smiled, and nodded.

"Well, I can't pass that up. I'll take it. Water to drink, please."

"Angela, when the food is ready, make sure we aren't disturbed, please," McCann ordered, polite though it may have been.

"Of course, sir," the woman almost snapped to attention, surprising Reed.

"There's a lot I can't tell you, Malcolm, know that from the start," McCann said. "Is it okay if I call you Malcolm?"

"Certainly," Reed nodded.

"I'm Jerl, then. As I said, there's a great deal I cannot tell you, but I'm here to give you what I can. I have no way of establishing a trust between us, so you'll have to decide that on your own, I'm afraid."

"First of all, Tucker is fine. Or was last I heard, which was about six days ago. He's off planet, by the way, that's why you can't find him. You had to know that, though. I like Charles, but he's not really, well, spook material, let's say." Malcolm snorted.

"Not in the least."

"I know he's your friend, and you're worried over him. I daresay Captain Archer and the Elder Tuckers are as well." Reed nodded.

"Tucker has taken a place with our. . .firm, let's call it," McCann smiled. "He's working on an engineering project in deep space. I can't tell you where, since honestly I'm not privy to the location myself, exactly. I know roughly where it is, but. . .you know as well as I do, in space, 'roughly' doesn't cut it." Reed nodded his agreement.

The two men fell silent as their food was delivered, and Angela moved away. Reed noticed that another man had walked outside, and was sitting in a chair outside the small patio. He was too far away to hear what was said, and appeared to be reading a newspaper. But he lifted his head every fifteen seconds to scan the area.

"Nice," Reed complimented.

"We try not to attract attention," McCann shrugged. "Anyway, where was I. Oh, yes. Tucker is working on a project for us. I can't tell you anything about that, except that it's in response to the Xindi attack. Security. I'm sure you, of all people, can understand." Reed nodded again. The pork was really good, and he could taste the pineapple.

"As for the Elder Tuckers, you can pull Starfleet off them if you want, since we're also watching out for them. One of the perks of working for us. Charles was concerned about them after losing his sister, so, our protective detail keeps a close eye on them at all times. Nothing overt, of course, it's not our wish to alarm them, just to make sure nothing happens to them."

"I think we'll just keep our own people in place for now," Malcolm replied evenly.

"Don't blame you," McCann smiled, and Malcolm felt as though he'd just passed some kind of test. "I'm sure you have questions, and I'll answer however many I can, now," McCann offered.

"Well, let's see," Malcolm considered. "You can't, or won't, tell me where he is, or what he's doing. You give me nothing other than your word for it that he's all right. You're watching his family, and know that we are as well. You know about Section 31, and my involvement with them. Somehow, you knew I was trying to contact Harris, and made sure I couldn't, then replied with your own message, using a code that, until now I thought was known only to he and I." He leaned back, eyeing McCann.

"You haven't really told me anything, have you? At least nothing I can verify. Not about Tr. . .Commander Tucker."

McCann sighed. He'd known this wouldn't be easy. Reed was very, _very_ good.

"No, I suppose I haven't," he admitted. "But I have told you a great deal, at least for me. I really am trying to work with you here, Malcolm, and I mean that. You've attracted the attention of my. . .boss. He likes you. Admires your skills, and your loyalty."

"Flattery isn't going to help you," Malcolm almost growled.

"I know that," McCann nodded. "So does he. I assure you, my boss doesn't 'do' flattery. He says what he means, and does what he says." He paused. What to do? he pondered.

"What can I do, that would convince you, Malcolm? There are some lines I can't cross, you already know that. But if you can name something that's within my power, I'll do it."

"Why is it so important I believe you?" Malcolm asked.

"We don't need you, or Archer, distracted from your mission," McCann replied honestly. "Earth is still in danger, Malcolm. You know that as well as I do. Probably better. If the two of you are busy looking for Charles Tucker, then you may miss something important out there," he waved in the general direction of the sky. "I don't want that. We may be attacked again, and the _Enterprise_ is the best defense we have for now."

"It's obvious the Vulcans aren't interested in helping, and we don't really have any other friends that can, or will. We're pretty much on our own for the moment. That makes it very important that you, and Archer, can both concentrate on what you're doing."

Malcolm considered that. It sounded good, and the man seemed to mean it. He was right, too. There was no help coming from anyone to help defend Earth. They were on their own.

"I'll be honest with you, Jerl," Malcolm decided to put his cards on the table. "The only thing I'll accept, and by that I mean the _only_ thing that will make me call of my search for the man I consider my best friend, is to speak to him. Face to face is out of the question, according to you, but I'll settle for a live call from him. Where I speak directly to him. I'll know, then, if you're lying to me about his being well." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

"And if you are, I _will_ kill you." His tone was proof enough that he absolutely meant it. "Even if I have to torpedo you from space," he added.

"You'd go so far?" McCann asked.

"For him, yes. I would. And _will_." Malcolm leaned back again, satisfied he'd gotten his point across.

"Well," McCann actually looked amused rather than threatened. "I guess that's what we'll have to try to do then." Malcolm managed to hide his surprise, but only barely.

"Caught you off guard, did I?" McCann smiled. "Have to keep you on your toes Malcolm. We'll have to go deeper into the city for this. I. . .I can't authorize this on my own. Only the boss can. We'll have to ask him. That's all I can offer you, myself."

Reed thought about that. Was this a trap, to get rid of him? Some kind of set-up that Harris had rigged?

"What about the shuttle?" he temporized.

"It'll be here when you get back," McCann promised, waving for Angela to come over.

"Angela, will you please tell Tomas that I need him to keep an eye on the Lieutenant's shuttle until we return? No one is to approach it for any reason. That includes him."

"Of course, sir. Right away." The 'waitress' spun on her heels, and headed for the gate.

"She seems a bit military for a waitress," Malcolm observed aloud.

"Really?" McCann grinned. "I hadn't noticed. Come along, Malcolm. We've already decided that your time is short."

Wary, suspicious, but determined to see for himself about Trip's well being, Malcolm followed.

STE

Trip slowly became aware of his surroundings. First, he heard voices. That alarmed him a little, until he recognized one of them as Neera.

". . .ing you, Julio, we are going to have to be very careful with him from here on out. If you had seen. . . ."

"Oh, I seen it," Julio Givens told her. "I hacked the security cam footage on the Orion vessel. He can't possibly be that strong, that far advanced, Neera. Not yet! There hasn't been enough time!"

"If you seen it, you know it's true," was Neera's simple reply. "I don't know what to do."

"Have you called Janos about it?"

"No!" Neera's voice raised some. "I. . .I don't know what he'd say. He might order us back."

"We ain't goin' back," Trip told them, levering himself up, then swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk he'd been laying on. He noticed he had an IV.

"What the hell is this for?" he grumped, yanking it out of his arm.

"You needed blood when we got back," Neera told him. "How do you feel, Trip?"

"I'm fine, 'cept for a headache," he told her. "Why'd I need blood?"

"The symbiot required it to heal you, and get your system back under control," Julio told him. "Headache should go away pretty fast." Before Trip could reply to that, he noticed that his headache was, indeed, gone.

"Huh, how 'bout that," he said aloud. "What's got the two o' you so concerned?"

"Trip, we really need to talk," Neera said. She looked at Julio, who nodded.

"I got work to do, so I'll leave you to it," he said, gathering his things. In addition to everything else he did, he was a pretty fair medic for. . .well, their kind, anyway. As soon as he was gone, Neera sat beside Trip on his bunk.

"How do you feel?" she asked, rubbing his back.

"Why does everbody keep askin' me that?" Trip almost growled. "I feel fine." Neera winced at Trip's accent. He saw it, and looked contrite.

"Neera, I'm sorry," he told her gently. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I swear."

"I know," she said softly. "Trip, I'm going to have to tell you some things, and you have to promise me that you're going to listen, and not get aggravated while I do it. Okay?"

"Is something wrong?" Trip asked worriedly. "Is. . .have the Xindi. . . ."

"No, nothing like that," Neera shook her head. "This is about you. Now, are you ready to listen?"

Trip relaxed, nodding.

"I'll behave," he promised. Neera snorted delicately at that, but stood.

"Trip, you know a great deal about us, but. . .but you. . . ." She stopped, unsure of what to say, now that she had the chance.

"Just. . .start where you want, or think you need to, and I'll listen," Trip promised, realizing at last how upset she was.

"I don't know how else to say it," she finally sighed. "Trip, you're dangerous." He waited, expecting more. When she remained silent, he decided to ask;

"Uh, wasn't that the, uh, expected outcome? That I'd be more than I was?"

"Not like this," Neera shook her head. "Trip, you were. . .you almost went. . .hell, I don't even know what to _call_ it. What do you remember from the Orion ship?"

"I remember being able to do things I didn't think I could, yet," Trip replied. "I mean, you told me it would be as much as six months before I began to see more than superficial changes. But I was able to manhandle them slavers pretty easy."

"What do you remember about what you did?" she pressed.

"Well, it was all pretty quick," Trip admitted. "I know I broke one fella's arm, and think I broke another one's neck that was about to catch you from behind. Otherwise, it was just a good old fashioned brawl." He looked at her, seeing how pensive she seemed. "Wasn't it?" he asked, frowning.

"Trip. . .you had fangs," she told him bluntly. "Something that shouldn't even be possible after just three months."

"I did?" He couldn't remember that.

"Trip you were almost _insane_ with rage," Neera told him. "You tore one Orion's head _off his shoulders_, for God's sake!" She regretted it as soon as the words were out, seeing the look of horror on Trip's face.

"I did?" he almost whispered, his face pale.

"And tore his throat out with your. . .teeth," she continued gently.

"I don't. . .I'm sorry?" he looked at her. Suddenly she knelt in front of him, taking his head in her hands.

"Oh, Trip, you don't have to be sorry," she told him, eyes damp. "_We_ do. We have. . .I think Lord Janos made a mistake, Trip. One we can't undo."

"What do you mean?" Trip asked, and she was relieved not to hear it as 'wha'dya mean'.

"Trip, almost everyone of us that Janos has allowed to join him, has ever even made the Offer to, were at the point of death when he did it. Every. Single. One."

"Except me," Trip saw where this was going.

"Except you," Neera nodded, a single tear falling from her right eye. Trip reached out without thinking, brushing it away. She leaned into his touch, no more thought in it than Trip had used.

"So. . .what's the problem?" he asked. "What does that mean?" Neera joined him on the bunk again, gently taking his hand.

"Trip, you were taken while you were in a cold, merciless, and unforgiving state of mind," she told him. "You were in your right mind at the time, and the symbiot recognized that. But to _it_, that's your normal state of being. The parasite thinks that you were born a cold, hate-filled creature of vengeance. Violence."

"Well, he. . .she. . ._it_, knows better now, right?"

"No, Trip," Neera shook her head sadly. "And it never will, I'm so afraid. It will always know you as. . .as. . . ."

"As a monster that rips people's heads off?" Trip finished for her, glumly.

"Yes," she sobbed, unable to hold it back any longer. "Oh, Trip, I am so sorry I did this to you," she cried, burying her face in his shoulder, wracked with sobs.

In the few short weeks she had known him, Neera had gone from interested, to attracted, to. . .she loved him. Seeing what she had done to him was breaking her heart.

"Hey, hey now," Trip chided her gently, wrapping his arms around her. "This here ain't your fault, Neera. I knew before I ever walked into that bookstore, before I ever met you, what I was gettin' into. I asked for this, and was willin' to pay the price to get back at the Xindi for killin' my sister and seven million more. You know that."

"But I would _never have done it_!" she exclaimed. "Not if I knew _this_ would be the result!"

"Janos would have," Trip shrugged slightly. "And I would have let him, even knowing what I know right this minute."

"You don't mean that," Neera replied automatically.

"Oh, yes I do," he assured her. "I told you, Neera, I _knew_. There weren't any surprises waitin' for me in that store. Well, 'cept you," he added with a smile. "The sweetest surprise of all, far as I'm concerned." Neera laughed at that, in spite of her turmoil.

"So, what do we, I, need to do about this?" Trip asked her. "I'm assumin' that we're gonna have to take some kinda precautions." Neera tensed as she heard Trip's accent deepen.

"What is it?" Trip asked, feeling her tension.

"Trip, I use your accent as a danger signal," she admitted to him. "Whenever I hear it get. . .well, worse, it usually means that you're. . .on the verge." Trip laughed at that.

"Well, darlin', I guess that's accurate enough, but I also tend to fall deeper into it when I'm relaxed, too. You'll just have to work on figurin' out which one it is, I guess, if you aim to keep usin' it for that."

"I see," Neera nodded. "Well, that's another project I can add to my list, I guess," she laughed, wiping her eyes. There were no tracks of smudged make up on her face, Trip noticed with a smile. She didn't need make up.

"Okay, so we're gonna have to keep an eye on ole Trip," he said, his voice taking on a lighter tone. "Anything else?"

"Your training will have to be stepped up," Neera informed him. "You can't be so reckless in the future."

"Okay," Trip agreed without argument. Neera couldn't hide her surprise.

"If you say I need to do it, Neera, I will," he told her. "I'm pretty taken with you, you know. I don't want anything about me to make you unhappy," he smiled.

"You know, I can see how a Monarch of an entire star system could fall for you, Mister Tucker," Neera smiled brightly, hugging him tightly.

"That's what she called me, too," he laughed.

"What?"

"'Mister Tucker'," Trip said.

"You aren't still holding a flame for this Princess, or whatever, are you?" Neera asked, a different kind of Green Monster rearing it's head.

"Nah," Trip replied easily. "Found me somethin' better."

"Like what?"

"An Amazon."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER SEVEN

Malcolm Reed followed Jerl McCann into a decrepit looking three story business whose sole identification merely said OLD BOOKS.

"You've _got_ to be bloody kidding," he murmured to himself.

"Don't be so critical, Malcolm," Jerl chided gently. "What did you expect? That we'd be in a shiny, glass walled skyscraper like Starfleet? We don't really advertise, you know."

"That is reasonable," Malcolm admitted. "I have to assume that your 'firm' does more than just whatever it is that Trip's working on."

"You may safely make that assumption," McCann smiled. He turned his attention to the woman behind the desk.

"Trina, will you please inform him that Malcolm Reed and I need a bit of his time?"

"Of course, sir," the woman snapped to, and disappeared behind a door in back of the counter.

"You ever sell any books?" Malcolm asked idly, checking his PADD.

"Of course," McCann smiled. "That's all this is, Malcolm. A book store."

"Of course," Malcolm forced down a smile. He was still cautious, and suspicious, but he was actually starting to like McCann. He found himself hoping the man was on the up and up.

"He'll see you, sir," Trina returned, looking. . . .

"I take it he's unhappy?" McCann asked.

"You could say that, sir," she nodded. McCann sighed.

"Well, no help for it, now," he said. "Let's go Malcolm. And please, be polite."

"My best behavior," the Brit promised. He followed McCann into the back, then up a flight of stairs. The two stopped before a door at the end of the second floor hallway.

"Polite," McCann reminded before opening the door.

"Thank you for seeing us, sir," McCann said, entering the room with Malcolm in tow. Malcolm took the room in. Several shelves of leather bound books rested along the walls. The appointments in the office were actually comforting to him, he admitted, seeing the Indian rugs, silver and brass items and accents. The room smelled somewhat similar to that of his favorite Uncle's study, in England.

"Well, you didn't really give me any choice, now did you, McCann?" the man behind the enormous desk almost snarled. His face was illuminated by a lamp that looked. . . .

"Bloody Nora, that's a _Queen's Lamp_!" he exclaimed. McCann sighed. So much for easing into it.

"Indeed it is, Mister Reed," the man's voice almost sounded amused. "Recognize it?"

"Beg pardon, sir," Reed was instantly contrite. "It's just. . .well, it's a rare thing to see one, sir. I apologize," he bowed stiffly.

"Good God, he's worse than you are, Jerl," the man sighed. "Well, don't just stand there gawking! Come in and sit down!" McCann grabbed Malcolm's arm and guided him to one of the two chairs before the desk, taking the other for himself.

"Now, what in the name of all the Pantheon has happened that you felt the need to bring this man to see me personally?" he demanded. Secretly, however, Janos was pleased. He'd wanted to get a better look at Reed, and now he was.

"Sir, I relayed the information we discussed to the Lieutenant," McCann stated. "He is, I believe, inclined to be accepting, save one proviso." After a moment of silence, Janos glared at McCann.

"Must I _wait_ for it?" he grated.

"I want to talk to him," Malcolm replied for McCann. "I want it from his lips that he's okay. If I'm satisfied that he is, then I'll go back to _Enterprise_, inform the Captain of that, and cease to look for him." He glanced at his chrono.

"And if I don't?" Janos demanded. "You're on my 'turf', now, so to speak. You would not be the first man I've made disappear."

"Then I hope these wonderful books, and especially that Lamp, are insured," Malcolm returned. "Because in about twenty minutes, if I don't stop it, a Mark III Starfleet torpedo is going to blow them straight to hell." He revealed this without turning a hair. McCann sighed. He'd expected something like this, but hoped Reed would be more. . .tactful, in his choice of words.

Reed expected threats. Even a minor explosion of temper.

He did not expect a belly laugh. The man was actually rolling in mirth and laughter.

"Oh, my," the man behind the desk finally managed to contain himself.

"_Leftenant_ Reed, I am indeed glad to meet you. My name, my _real_ name, in fact, is Janos."

"Sir," Malcolm nodded.

"Well, this isn't what I had in mind, but I suppose it's all right," Janos wiped his eyes with a hand-painted silk handkerchief that Malcolm figured cost more than he made in a year with Starfleet. He touched a button on his console.

"_Sir_?"

"Xavier, please contact the station for me. I need to speak with Charles Tucker." He glanced at Malcolm, and added, "As soon as possible, too. Say, in the next ten minutes or so."

"_Right away, sir_," Xavier replied.

"All right, Leftenant," Janos smiled. "We'll have to see if we make the deadline while we wait. Until then, can I offer you some tea?"

STE

Trip and Neera were pretty much finished, fortunately, when Julio's voice cracked across the com.

"You two need to get up here," he ordered. "Janos wants to talk to Trip, like, yesterday, even."

"Julio! Did you. . . ." Neera began.

"You know better," his voice cut her off. "_He _called _us_. And I mean there's some serious time pressure, here." The two of them took off at once, running.

Two minutes later, Trip was looking at. . . .

"Malcolm?" his voice betrayed his confusion.

"Yes, you bloody ungrateful bastard, it's _Malcolm_," Reed almost snarled. "Hold on a minute." He took his PADD out, made an entry, then looked back up.

"Do you have any idea how many people are looking for you, _Mistah_ _Tuckah_?" he asked. Trip wasn't the only one who's accent worsened when put out.

"Uh. . .a bunch?" Trip looked abashed, scratching his head.

"More than that," Malcolm replied. "Starfleet Intelligence has gone berserk looking for you. Captain Archer is beside himself, your _parents_, you sodding idiot, are worried to death."

Trip was stunned, and Malcolm could see it. It was clear that he. . . .

"Mal, I'm sorry," Trip said, contrite. "I. . .I just didn't think, that's all. I was so busy workin', and I didn't even visit my folks before I. . . ."

"I'm well aware of that," Mal snapped back at him. "You could at least tell _them_ you're all right, you bloody bastard!"

"Hey, now," Trip raised his arms in a defensive gesture. "I told you I'm sorry, Mal. I figured all o' you were so busy. . .hey, speakin' o' which, why ain't you on _Enterprise_?"

"Because I've been looking for _you!_" Malcolm almost shouted. "That's how badly you've worried everyone, mate. The whole damned world seems to be looking for you."

"Wow," was all Trip could say. Malcolm eased up a little. He could tell that Trip was not only sorry, he was surprised.

"I'll call mah folks, soon as we get done," he promised. "I'm sorry, Mal. Really, I am. It's still good to see you, though, even mad as ya are," Trip grinned. Malcolm fought to keep his stern look, but lost the battle.

"I wish I could stay mad at you," he told his friend. "You've worried a lotta people, mate. I'd ask where you are, but I've been told it's a secret. So instead, how about when are you coming home?"

Trip frowned. Malcolm tensed a bit.

"I'm not, Mal," Trip replied evenly. "Least not for a long time. I. . .I got something I'm workin' on, and that's all I can say. All I will say. Even for you." Malcolm appreciated the addendum, implying that he trusted Reed enough that if he did tell someone, Mal would be on the list.

"Well, that's not going to sit well with a lot of people, Trip," Malcolm warned. "Especially Starfleet." It was the wrong thing to say, and Malcolm knew it as soon as he saw Trip's reaction.

"Starfleet can kiss mah ass!" Trip snapped, then visibly calmed himself. He reached out to someone and a very attractive woman enter the picture, staying behind Trip, but holding his hand, her other arm around his waist.

"I see what's keeping you so busy now, mate," Malcolm smirked.

"You don't know near as much as you think ya do, Malcolm," Trip's voice dropped the temperature of the room, and Janos frowned, though no one else could see it.

"I hate to interrupt this love fest," he said smoothly, "but Malcolm, does this satisfy you that Charles is unharmed, and not under duress, or any other evil thing you've thought of?"

"Yes, sir," Mal nodded. "Trip, I'll have to tell Archer where you. . .well, what I know, anyway. Just so he'll relax. He's almost as worried as your parents. It was good to see you, and to make sure you're okay."

"I appreciate it, Mal," Trip grinned. "You're a real friend. Man can't have too many o' them. Even if they are a bit too starchy."

"Sod off," Reed snorted. "Take care, Trip."

"Charles, Neera, wait there, and clear the room on that end," Janos ordered. "I want to speak to you." He turned without waiting for an answer.

"Malcolm Reed," he said, smiling. "You are a most remarkable young man. I hope that Starfleet realizes that."

"Thank you, sir," was all Mal could think of to say.

"I'd love to talk to you longer, but. . .I know you have to get back. Oh, and please turn off that self destruct device on your way out. I really _do_ love my books."

"I'll see to it, sir," Malcolm almost smiled.

"You're welcome here anytime, young man," Janos informed him. "Jerl will give you a way to contact us if you're in need, and he'll also share some information we have on the Xindi. If you meet them, I think you'll find it most helpful. If anyone were to discover that it was I who gave it to you, however, I would be most. . .displeased."

"I give you my word, sir, that will not happen," Mal replied. "It was a genuine pleasure to meet you. Please take care of that bloody fool," he pointed back to the screen. "There are a lot of people who love and care for him."

"More than you know, Malcolm," Janos smiled. "Jerl, return Mister Reed to his shuttle. Give him the information I mentioned."

"Um. . .does that inc. . . ."

"Everything we have in Intel," Janos replied. "Nothing about Mister Tucker's. . .project."

"Yes, m'L. . .sir," McCann stiffened. "Come along, Lieutenant."

"Goodbye, sir," Reed offered as he turned to go.

"Remember where you are now, Lieutenant," Janos told him. "There's a place here for you, if you ever decide you want something. . .different."

"I shall, sir."

When Reed was gone, Janos turned to the screen, where Trip and Neera stood, waiting.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Wrong?" Trip looked puzzled. "Nothin'. Project's a few days ahead o' schedule, in fact."

"You're lying, Charles," Janos said bluntly. "That annoys me." Trip sighed, and motioned for Neera to explain.

"Trip has had some. . .issues, m'Lord," she said hesitantly.

"Issues?" Janos parroted. "I dislike 'issues' Neera, as you well know."

"It seems that the. . .that we. . .," Neera was lost.

"Parasite that got me seems ta think I'm a fairly violent fella," Trip stepped in. "We had a little tussle, few hours back, I guess," he looked at Neera who nodded. "Well, we got attacked by Orions, and I. . .uh. . .well, I mighta been bad. A bit." Trip looked like he was blushing.

"Have all of you conspired to make me wait today?" Janos growled after a minute of waiting. "What did you do?"

"Reckon I mighta lost control a little, and, well, see, the thing is. . . ."

"Charles, please," Janos raised his hand. "Take a moment, think about what you want to say, _then_ speak." Trip flushed even more, but did as ordered. Finally, he took a deep breath.

"Apparently the. . .thing, is convinced I'm a monster, because o' the state o' mind I was in when I. . .when, you know. Now, whenever I'm in battle, it seems to come to the fore a bit too strong."

Janos had to think that through. As it dawned on him what Trip was saying, he looked at Neera.

"You came up with that?" he demanded. She nodded, hesitantly.

"Excellent work," he nodded, and she relaxed a bit. "I need to study this," he added. "Charles, are you able to keep working?"

"I'm fine," Trip promised. "I just need to be careful, that's all. But I was gonna need to do that anyway. It's not a problem. At least it ain't one we can't deal with."

"Good," Janos nodded. "Keep at it. There's a lot of traffic around the system these days, and I don't like it. Sooner or later, they'll try again. Starfleet isn't doing anything different from the day you departed. It looks like it will have to be you, Charles."

"We'll be ready," Trip promised grimly. "And we've already worked out how to deal with my. . .issue," he grinned slightly using the word. "It won't be a problem."

"That's good to hear. I told you Neera would take good care of you. If you need me, call me. Otherwise, I have work to do."

"Yes, sir," both said in unison, and Janos cut the message off.

"Dammit. I can never seem to get a day to just. . .work."

STE

"You know, this is more information that we've gotten from the Vulcans, as far as I know," Malcolm said, flipping through the information McCann had given him.

"Not surprising," McCann replied. "They aren't very. . .forthcoming." He didn't add that the Vulcans didn't know as much as they thought they did.

"An understatement if I've ever heard one," Malcolm snorted. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome," McCann nodded, pulling the hover car off the road at the shuttle. "Remember. Don't reveal more than you have to, and under no circumstance are you to reveal anything about Janos," he warned.

"I'll make sure of it," Reed promised.

"And don't forget, you're now welcome at the book store anytime," McCann smiled. "Janos likes you. That's not a small thing. If you ever get tired of Starfleet, he meant what he said. There's a place for you with us."

"Yeah, that's what Section 31 said, too," Malcolm replied ruefully.

"Are they giving you problems?" McCann asked.

"Nothing I can't handle," Reed didn't exactly answer. McCann handed him a chip.

"This is my personal contact information," he told the clearly surprised Reed. "If Harris becomes a problem, call me. I can take care of it."

"Just like that?" Reed asked, his skepticism clear.

"Trust me, Malcolm. We've been around far longer than Harris. He won't be a problem. You're now a friend of the family, so to speak," he smiled. "And no, that doesn't mean we'll call on you to do anything. It just means. . .well, it means we take care of our own, that's all. Far better than Harris, too."

Reed didn't know what to say, so he nodded.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Now, get the hell outta here, and back to your ship, you idler. We need you on the job, not down here eating bar-b-que and telling lies." Reed laughed outright at that, seeing McCann's grin.

"I'll be in touch, if needed," he promised. McCann nodded.

"And I'll make sure Trip calls his parents," McCann promised in return.

"Thanks, mate." Reed walked to the shuttle, waving a small gesture at Tomas. The man raised an eyebrow, nodded, and went back to reading his ever present paper.

Shaking his head at the day he'd had, Malcolm boarded the shuttle and started his return trek to _Enterprise._

STE

Trip was a little pensive as he stood in front of the screen. He fidgeted, which Neera had learned that he was trying to figure a way out of doing something he didn't want to do.

"No," she said, before he could speak.

"You don't even know what I was gonna say!"

"You were going to say you could do this at a later time, when you 'felt better'," Neera said flatly, then grinned as Trip's mouth dropped open, then snapped shut.

"Fine," he muttered, and hit the connection. A few seconds later, and his mother appeared on the screen.

"Trip!" Elaine was shocked, elated, and relieved, all at once. "Oh, son, I've been so worried!"

"I'm sorry, Ma," Trip told her. "It's good to see you," he smiled. "Dad around?"

"Charlie!" she called over her shoulder. "Trip, where _are_ you? Where have you been? And why did I have to learn from Jonathon that you had _resigned_?" Before Trip could answer any of those questions, his father came into view.

"Who is. . .son?" Charles Tucker's face revealed his own combination of relief, surprise, and a touch of anger.

"Hey, dad," Trip smiled. "How ya doin'?"

"I'll be better if you're close enough for me to come kick your ass," his father assured him. "Where'n the hell you been, boy?"

"I can't tell ya that, dad," Trip replied evenly. "Let me start from the beginnin', and I'll bring you up as far as I can. Fair enough?" Both parents nodded.

Trip spent the next few minutes carefully explaining what he was doing, and why he hadn't visited. He left out certain things, of course, but managed to tell them everything that was important.

"I knew you hadn't just quit," Charles was the first to speak. "I knew you wouldn't just leave it, son."

"You got that right," Trip nodded, his voice hard. "When I get done, I'm gonna tear the Xindi a new as. . . ."

"Trip Tucker!" Elaine scolded.

"Sorry," Trip apologized. "Look, Malcolm knows. . .well, no, he don't," Trip remembered. "Mal knows almost as much as you do, since he just spoke to me a bit ago. Jon should know pretty soon, too. There's a lot I can't tell you, and that's just the way it is. Know that I'm safe, I'm happy, and I'm workin'. Is that enough? If I apologize for just up an leavin'?"

"We just wanted to know what had happened to you, Trip," his mother said tearfully. "Of course it's enough."

"Proud o' you, son," Charles added.

"I won't be home for a long time," Trip warned. "And it'll be hit and miss whether I can contact you at all. And you don't tell a soul that you've even heard from me, all right? Less people know, the better."

"You know Starfleet won't stop looking for you, son," Charles warned. "They need you too bad."

"Tough cookies," Trip almost snarled. "They lost the right to my services when they didn't at least try to strike back at the Xindi. My Starfleet days are over for good, dad."

"Suits me," Charles nodded. "Too much contact with aliens, anyway," he added darkly.

"Dad, all aliens ain't bad," Trip told him. "Some are actually pretty good folks. It's just that, well, some ain't. That's all. Just like us."

"I guess that's true enough," Charles sighed. "Trip, son, be careful, and. . .good huntin'." The elder Tucker's voice held more meaning that the casual listener might get.

"Thanks, dad," Trip nodded. "I'll try and contact you once in a while, no matter how hard it is. I love you both, and remember, you ain't heard from me, other than talkin' to Jon and Malcolm."

"We'll remember," both promised. The call cut off, and Trip sighed.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Neera asked.

"Not once it was done, no," Trip admitted. "All right, enough foolishness. Time to get back at it."

STE

"Malcolm, I'm less than enthused by the things you've left out," Archer said.

"I know, sir," Reed looked directly at him. "But it's the best I can do. Trip is alive and well, working for a private firm on some kind of project that's classified so secret he's not even on the planet, but in deep space."

"I was hoping he would come back," Jon sighed.

"That is not going to happen, sir," Malcolm let the hammer fall. "He feels betrayed by Starfleet, and he is, in his words, 'done'."

"I'm sure that's not all he said," Jon snorted.

"There were some other, less. . .tactful, statements made, yes sir," Reed managed to keep a straight face.

"You know I'm going to have to share this intel on the Xindi with Starfleet, don't you?" Reed nodded.

"They are going to want to know where you got it."

"That's not going to happen, sir," Reed said simply. "I gave my word. Breaking it would end any chance of getting more, if and when there is more. I won't risk that."

"Starfleet may want to talk to your source," Jon warned.

"They really don't."

"All right, Malcolm," Jon sighed. "Good work. And thank you. I feel better knowing the di. . .that Trip is okay."

"So do I, sir," Reed smiled slightly. "So do I."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Grav, what are your crews doing now?" Trip asked the Tellar hull builder.

"A few are finishing some minor work, or assisting the other crews with hull related issues too important to be left to amateurs. The rest are engaged in cleaning and servicing the inferior equipment they were forced to use in the construction of this garbage scow."

"Loose ends, then," Trip clarified.

"For the most part," Grav nodded.

"Start laying down the second hull," Trip ordered. For once, Grav was unable to think of a suitable insult.

"Sir?" His confusion was clear.

"Next shift," Trip ordered. "Time pressure for the new one is a little less than our current love," he nodded to where the as yet unnamed ship was being constructed. "Everything to be identical. And while you're at it, lay in enough materials to build two more after that."

"Sir. . .Trip. . . ." The Tellar trailed off.

"This was never a one off, Grav. You knew that, or should have."

"I didn't think even you would be so foolish and unthinking as to began building more ships until this one had been through it's field trials!" Grav found his voice finally.

"I designed this ship," Trip said confidently. "Everything on it will work just fine. And you and your crews have built a remarkable vessel. Well done. Now, make me more of them. Starting next shift."

"Very well, but I want it on record that I had no part in this senseless waste of resources."

"I'm sure it'll make it in there somewhere," Trip grinned.

STE

Trip looked around at the various department heads. This was a progress meeting. Also a barn storming session. And a gripe session. Among other things.

"We're working as fast as we can safely do so," Hamish told him. "We're working four crews, in double shifts where necessary."

"The engines are ready for testing," Kov said simply. "I expect them to perform with precision, especially after shakedown."

"Tek-Grav informs me you have ordered another hull begun," Tarn added, looking a bit left out.

"I have," Trip nodded. "I also ordered him to arrange for the materials to build two more." Everyone looked shocked at that.

"This was the plan, all along, gentlemen," Trip headed off their arguments. "Earth, and the rest of our homeworlds, face more threats than merely the Xindi. We're going to be able to respond to those threats as they arise, or I'll have the head of whoever is responsible for us not."

Faces paled at that, or darkened, depending on the race, and Trip winced. By now, four and a half months into the project, everyone had heard about the Orion incident, either officially, or more importantly by rumor.

"I didn't mean it like that," he promised, hoping to assure the group. "I just meant that whoever was responsible would be looking for a new job. And I don't want that, since I'm sure this is the best group we could possibly have."

"Now that we're so far along, I've got to start making crew arrangements for the first ship. That means I'll be away more and more, probably. Tarn, I'll be more dependant on you than ever. I know I've put a lot on you, but it's only because I know you can get the job done, and I can trust you." Tarn looked pleased by that statement.

"I'm honored by your confidence, and I will not fail you," he promised. "I'd volunteer for ship duty, but. . .I'm an old Andorian, Trip. You'll need younger, stronger men, where you're headed."

"Same here," Hamish admitted. "If I were ten years younger, I'd already be signed up. At my age, though," he shook his head. "I'd just be a liability, Trip."

"I'm honored that you both would consider it, thank you. But you're needed here more than on the ship. You can get things done here no one else can. Anyone can shoot." The two older men chuckled. Trip looked at Kov.

"Oh, I'm going," Kov surprised him by saying. "There's no way you're going without me, Trip. You need a good engineer to keep the system you've designed working. And you won't have time to do it yourself," Kov raised a hand to forestall Trip's comments.

"I've made detailed manuals on the maintenance and integration of your system into the other ships. Even an Andorian could do it," he grinned at Tarn. The two men shared none of the usual problems or distrust common between their peoples, and were actually friends.

"You little pointy eared _lek_, I was building starship engines when you were just a distant_ pon farr_ in your father's future!" Tarn laughed, and Kov joined him.

"Kov, I. . .I don't know," Trip said evenly. "We really need someone here to oversee the construction and installation of the engines on the other three ships. Are you sure that someone other than you can accomplish that?"

"They won't have to build them," Kov said airily. "All engines, both warp and impulse, for the other three ships will be ready before we depart. All they have to do is get them installed, and hooked up. And I'm making detailed notes on everything. There should be no problems. And jokes aside, between Hamish and Tarn, there won't be any. Of that I am certain."

"Wow," Trip said softly. "I guess I need to get down your way more often."

"We'd certainly welcome your visit at anytime," Kov promised.

"Well, I guess that's settled. Meanwhile, I've got a lot of other positions to fill, and that takes time. I'll just be a com call away if there's a problem, but day to day, it'll be up to you three, and Grav."

"We will not disappoint you, sir," Tarn promised.

STE

"Kron, you up to a little recruiting trip?" Trip asked.

"I am at your service, sir," Kron saluted.

"You really have to stop doing that," Trip told him. "I can't have my chief of security bowing and scraping all the time."

"I only wish to show my. . .what?" Kron's brain caught up to his hearing.

"You heard me, mister," Trip said seriously. "You'll be in charge of security when we set out. That means you'll need to come up with a list of replacements for Tarn to choose from."

"I will see to it immediately, Captain," Kron promised, unable to contain his pride and excitement.

"So, we need some marines," Trip told him. "Know where we can get some?"

"Marines?" Kron frowned. "I am unfamiliar with the term, sir."

"Ship board soldiers," Trip clarified. "I want them to be able to repel boarders, board and capture ships, prisoners, or intel, and serve as shock troops if we have to go planetside. Get the idea?"

"Indeed," Kron nodded. "And yes, I know where we can 'get some'."

"Outstanding!"

STE

"So we're going to what amounts to a Klingon bar and brothel," Neera didn't bother to hide her aggravation.

"Well, I'd not o' put it that way myself," Trip hedged. "It's a popular place, according to Kron. A place where, as he put it, 'warriors congregate to brag and drink'. And to wait for the next job."

"Mercenaries," Neera scoffed.

"Are we much different?" Trip asked. "I mean, when you get right down to it, we're basically building a private navy, honey. Everyone in the galaxy is gonna see us as either mercs, or privateers, or worse."

"We're completely different from those kind, and you know it," Neera shot back.

"I do," Trip nodded. "But they won't," he waved toward the bulkhead, and the stars beyond it. "Planetary gover'ments don't cotton much to ships they can't control."

"True," Neera nodded, seeing his point. "I'm still not sure this is a good idea, however," she added.

"It's a test for Kron as much as a recruiting mission," Trip told her. "And he's smart enough to know that. He's also smart enough to know I've placed great trust in him with this. If it doesn't work, it won't be because of him."

"Kron is a remarkable warrior, once you get passed his. . .prejudices," Neera had to force herself to admit.

"I think you put him passed those prejudices pretty well, darlin'," Trip smiled, remembering.

"Of course I did," Neera sniffed as she closed her bag. "That's what I do."

"Anyway, we need security troops, and ground fighters, just in case. Other than, say, thirty or forty of you, I think a whole buncha Klingon warriors fits that bill pretty well."

"There will be several of us," Neera reminded him. "Jerl McCann is assembling a team to serve aboard our ship, as well as the other three. What?" she asked, seeing that Trip was looking at her strangely.

"Our ship," he repeated her words. "You know, I really like how that sounds," he admitted, grinning.

"As do I, my Trip," Neera stroked his cheek, giving him a soft smile that was for him alone. No one else ever saw it. Ever. She leaned into him, kissing him gently. They were interrupted by Kron's gravelly voice.

"_The ship is prepared, sir_." Sighing, Trip broke away from her.

"If he keeps that up, we'll have a problem," Neera growled, her face still slightly flushed.

"I'll speak to him," Trip promised, grabbing his bag. "Let's go."

STE

"Yes, sir, I do know that you want to know where it came from," Jon said again, for at least the tenth time. "But Lieutenant Reed had to give certain assurance just to get the information in the first place, Admiral. And he isn't willing to reveal his source, for the same reasons I've already given you."

"Something like this is too important to worry about Reed's 'word', Jon," Forrest shot back. "I want him on a shuttle for debriefing the minute this conversation is over."

"Yes, sir," Jon sighed. "Max, why can't you just accept a gift horse without looking it in the teeth?" he asked.

"Dammit, Jon, you know why!" Forrest almost hissed. "This 'briefing' is more information, combined, than we've received about the Xindi from all our other sources to this point. We need to know who he's getting this from, and talk to them ourselves."

"He's not going to give it to you," Jon shrugged. "All you're going to do is cost me the best tactical officer in the fleet, at a time when I need him the most. I already lost Trip because of all this. How many more will I have to give up before Starfleet get's their head out of their ass?"

"That's enough, Captain," Forrest warned. "And we'll send you a new tactical officer if it becomes necessary."

"It won't be Malcolm Reed, Admiral, with all due respect," Jon sighed. "And I need him, sir. Especially now." Forrest seemed to cool a bit at that.

"I know you do," he admitted. "But. . .we can't allow a possible intel source to exist only in a Lieutenant's head, for God's sake!"

"According to Reed, he was given all the information there was, Admiral," Jon pointed out. Again.

"We'll be the judge of that," Forrest said, a hint of finality in his voice.

"Yes, sir," Jon surrendered. "I'll have him on his way as soon as possible."

"Good. Forrest out." The screen went blank, and Jon sat down, massaging his temples before reaching for the com.

"Archer to Reed. My ready room."

"_On my way, sir_," came the prompt answer. Two minutes later, Reed was at the door.

"Take a seat, Malcolm," Jon ordered. "I've just had a very confrontational discussion with Admiral Forrest."

"About me." Reed said. Not a question. A statement.

"Yes. You're to shuttle down to Starfleet HQ immediately. They want a personal debriefing, and will, in all likelihood, demand your source."

"With respect, sir, that's not going to happen," Malcolm said stiffly.

"I know that, and I told Forrest the same thing," Jon smiled wanly. "Doesn't matter what I say, he won't be swayed. I don't know what will happen, Malcolm. And I can't afford to go with you, either."

"I wouldn't expect you too, sir," Malcolm smiled. "As Trip would say, I saddled the horse, I'll have to ride it." Jon laughed a little.

"Yeah, that's definitely something he'd say, all right. I don't want to lose you, Malcolm, but I can't shake the feeling you won't be back."

"I'm afraid that's entirely possible, sir," Malcolm sighed. "I don't want to leave. But I suppose if I don't go, then they'll just send MACO's after me."

"Probably," Jon agreed. "Do what you think is right, Malcolm," he ordered sadly. "I need you, badly, but don't compromise yourself to get back. I need to know who you think is capable of taking your place if you don't return. I'm sure Starfleet will send someone, but. . .I like to make my own decisions when I can."

"Ensign Peters is my best officer at Tactical, sir," Reed said at once. "Ensign Matthews for ship security. Both will do well."

"But not as good as you," Jon said, shaking his head.

"I didn't start out being efficient, sir," Malcolm noted, not responding to the praise Archer had given him. "They will learn, just as I did."

"This is not the time to be on a learning curve, Lieutenant," Jon pointed out.

"I know, sir, and I'm sorry," Reed replied, meaning every word. "This is how it has to be."

"Well, better get ready," Jon ordered. "I'm sure Forrest is watching to see when the shuttle leaves."

"I'd imagine so, sir," Reed tried and failed to stifle a smile.

"Good luck, Lieutenant, and thank you. For everything."

"It was my privilege sir. It always has been."

Malcolm left Archer's ready room and looked around him for a brief moment. This ship had become his home. He would miss it greatly if wasn't allowed to return.

For now, however, he didn't have time to waste in regret, or reflection. He had to make a call before he left the ship.

Just in case.

STE

Another officer had been detailed to shuttle Malcolm down to the planet, since he probably wouldn't be back for a while, if ever. He was surprised to see T'Pol waiting at the air lock.

"This is a most inopportune time for the ship's Tactical and Security officer to be off the ship," she said with typical Vulcan understatement.

"Out of my hands, Sub-Commander," Reed replied, shrugging. "It was a privilege to serve with you, T'Pol," he added.

"It was likewise gratifying to serve with you, Malcolm," T'Pol nodded. "Before you go, what can you tell me of Commander Tucker," she shifted gears smoothly.

"Captain Archer hasn't informed you?" Reed was surprised.

"He merely informed me that the Commander had not be a victim of anything. . .untoward. Nothing more."

"Well, all I can add to that is that he's working for a private firm, now. He's off planet, in an undisclosed location. I spoke to him personally through a com call. He is well, and working, which was pretty much all he was willing to reveal." He paused, considering.

"I will add, as a personal observation, that whatever he's doing is probably connected with his desire to extract revenge on the Xindi. I can't prove that, and he didn't admit it, but. . .it makes sense."

"Indeed, it is a logical deduction, considering his reason for leaving" T'Pol nodded her agreement. "It is agreeable that he is unharmed, and has found a way in which to channel his anger." And that, Reed knew, was as close as T'Pol would ever come to admitting that she missed their former chief engineer.

"Live long, Lieutenant, and prosper," T'Pol intoned.

"And you, Sub-Commander."

With that, Malcolm Reed boarded the shuttle pod for the long ride to Earth, and his uncertain future.

STE

Sir, we may have a problem," McCann stood before Janos' desk once more. Janos looked at him, waiting for clarification. Finally, with a sigh, he managed to growl;

"Why must I always _wait_ for you to provide me with information, Jerl?"

"Apologizes, m'Lord," McCann replied. "I just had a transmission from Reed, sir. On the private channel I provided him." He fell silent, and Janos felt the sudden, almost overwhelming need to crush something. McCann looked like a good target, he decided, gazing intently at his chief intelligence officer.

"Er, Malcolm has been ordered to Starfleet Headquarters for a debriefing, sir," McCann responded to the threat of violence in his Master's eyes. "He is unsure what fate awaits him, and wanted us to know that he may be. . .unreachable, for some time, depending on what Starfleet does."

"Does?" Janos inquired.

"Reed has no intention of revealing where he got the intelligence, sir," McCann nodded. "He does not expect that to go well. He is prepared to be incarcerated, if necessary, rather than reveal his 'source'."

"Did he ask for any assistance?" Janos asked.

"He did not, sir. He merely wanted us informed, should we attempt to reach him. He does not expect to be allowed outside communication, once he refuses to accede to Starfleet's demands."

"Quite a young man, indeed," Janos murmured. "It would seem, Jerl, that young Charles chooses his friends well, would it not?"

"I have had the same thought, myself, m'Lord," McCann nodded.

"Very well, then," Janos stood. "Keep on top of this, Jerl. If Reed gets into any trouble, I want a plan in place to get him out, up to and including direct action to remove him from their custody, should it become necessary."

"Sir?" McCann couldn't hide his surprise. He knew Janos liked, even respected Reed, but this was. . . .

"We can't afford to have men of his caliber sitting in a cell when the Earth could be attacked again at any moment. If Starfleet doesn't want him, I do. Understand?"

"Of course, m'Lord."

"Get him a lawyer," Janos ordered. "The best you can find on such short notice. The minute he's accused of anything criminal, I want to know it, and I want that attorney ready to go to his aide, I don't care what time of day or night it is."

"At once, m'Lord."


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER NINE

"Kron, I have to agree with Neera on this. This place don't really seem like it's a friendly environment."

"Friendly environments are an unfamiliar setting for Klingons, M. . .Sir," Kron replied. "And this place, despite it's appearance, is one of the most ideal places to hire non-aligned warriors."

"Non-aligned?" Neera asked.

"Warriors who have no obligations to a House," Kron verified. She and Trip filed that away for later.

"Well, you're in charge, Kron," Trip sighed. "We'll follow your lead." Kron looked at Neera, seemingly about to say something, then appeared to think better of it. Neera hadn't missed it, however.

"What?" she didn't quite challenge.

"I was about to warn you that a place such as this was no place for a Lady of your standing," Kron admitted. "I sincerely doubt, however, that you would listen." He then grinned. "I am equally certain that you, My Lady, will not experience anything. . .undesired, more than once."

"Ya think?" Trip chuckled.

"Lady Neera makes a very strong impression, when it suits her," was all Kron would add, turning back, and entering the establishment.

"Lady Neera, huh?" Trip looked amused.

"Haven't you noticed that he has to stop himself from calling you 'My Lord'?" Neera replied seriously.

"Uh, no," Trip answered. Neera shook her head in mock sadness.

"Trip, honestly, you have _got_ to pay more attention to your people," she chided gently.

"Okay," Trip said seriously. "But what does that have to do with you being 'My Lady'?"

"God, you are so dense sometimes, I don't know how you dress yourself," Neera snorted as the two followed Kron inside. "Everyone knows about us, Trip. To Kron, I am your woman, and thus, 'My Lady' is appropriate."

"To Kron," Trip mused, holding the door open for her. "What about to you, Neera? Are you 'my woman'?"

"Like I said," Neera sighed. "Dense. Of course I am, you idiot," she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "And you'll do well to remember it," she warned before stepping inside.

"I think I can remember that," Trip said to her back, following her inside.

The first thing they noticed was how huge the place was. Trip had known, from the outside, that it was a big place, but he hadn't expected to find almost the entire first floor filled with tables, a long bar, and dozens of eating, drinking, boisterous Klingons.

The second thing was that not all the patrons were Klingons. There were several races represented among the customers, and Trip didn't recognize some of them at all, even from descriptions he'd weaseled out of T'Pol on occasion.

The third thing drew a muted curse from Trip's throat, sounding almost like a growl. Neera followed his gaze, and a small gasp escaped her lips.

The 'stage' at the far end of the bar attracted a great deal of the patron's attention, due entirely to the occupants. Scantily clad females of at least a dozen races occupied the stage, one of them human.

Tall and slender, with pale skin and red hair, the human woman danced just as lifelessly as the other women on stage to the accompanying music. As they watched, a Klingon reached up and delivered a harsh slap to the woman's backside, eliciting a sharp cry from her, though she continued dancing.

Trip started forward without a thought, only to be stopped by Neera's firm grip.

"Trip, this isn't the time," she hissed softly. He turned to look at her, and Neera's heart lurched when she saw the deep, too deep, blue of his eyes.

"I you think I aim ta stand here and watch an animal like 'at abuse a human woman, then I reckon you might not know me s'well as ya think ya do." Neera sighed, hearing the accent deepen.

"Damn you, Trip Tucker, you _promised me!_" she almost snarled, but it was quiet, in an effort not to draw any more attention to them than they already endured.

"Huh?" Trip looked confused.

"You're on the _verge_," she hissed. "You have to stop, right _now_!"

Somehow, she managed to get through to him. Trip relaxed slightly, looking back at the human woman on the stage.

"But I. . .I can't just. . .just leave'er here," his voice was almost mournful now, rather than angry.

"I didn't say you would, or should," Neera nodded. "But going up there and tearing his. . .tearing him a _new one_, as you so elegantly like to say, is _not_ the way to get it done. If she's a slave, then she might be for sale. We'll have Kron inquire before we leave, but for now, we have to stay on track."

Trip looked once more at the forlorn looking human woman, then nodded. It took all the effort he could muster not to do something, but Neera was right. He let her guide him to an empty table, and the two sat down, Neera's knees almost weak with relief.

Trip was an enigma that she had no way of understanding at present, save her own, unproven theory. His tendency toward violence was growing, and she knew of no way to stop it. All she could do was try and guide it. That had worked.

_This_ time.

She reached up and touched the communicator hidden in her ear.

"Kron, we need a suggestion for a drink," she said softly, having made sure the Klingon wasn't engaged at the moment. "We have no idea what to order."

"Ask for the house ale," Kron replied just as quietly. "It's not too strong, and is reasonably enjoyable. Do not drink more than one," he cautioned. "Lord Tucker does not need. . .your pardon, My Lady," he cut himself off, realizing what he was about to say.

"Don't worry, it's nothing I haven't thought of myself," she replied. "There's a human slave woman on the stage, and he almost lost his. . .almost acted without thinking. He wants to try and get her out of here, if we can, once we've accomplished our mission. I suggested trying to buy her."

"I will inquire after her present owner, My Lady," Kron promised. "I shall join you shortly."

"We'll have two house ale's," Neera ordered as their waiter walked to the table. "Thank you."

"Be a minute," the built in translator in her earbug told her. "Anything else?" the short, hair covered alien inquired.

"Not at the moment," she replied. The waiter bowed, and departed. Trip was studiously not looking at the stage, trying to avoid temptation.

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly. "I'll do better, I promise."

"Trip, it was a completely understandable reaction," Neera replied. "I had the same thought, but I'm not as. . . ."

"Violent?" Trip supplied. "Reckless? Unthinking?"

"I think you've covered it," she smiled softly. "Kron is going to try and find her owner. If we can rescue her, we will, I promise." Neera didn't like it either, but was far better at hiding it. Whatever others might call her, now, she was still human. Or had been, long ago. And she hated slavers with all her being.

Their ale arrived, and the two sat in companionable silence, sipping occasionally, and watching their surroundings. Trip was cursing himself mentally all the while. What had he expected to see, anyway? He knew that slavery existed away from Earth, where it had been abolished for generations. If it didn't, then there wouldn't be a reason for the Orion Slave Syndicate.

He decided, right then, that when their mission to destroy the Xindi was over, his next target would be the Syndicate. Their time had come and gone, as far as Trip was concerned. He wouldn't stop until every last Orion was dead beneath his. . . .

He stopped short. Since when had he become judge, jury, and executioner for the universe? What the hell was _wrong_ with him? The only race he wanted to destroy root and branch was the Xindi. He frowned even at that, remembering what he'd said to his father.

What if he got there, and the majority of the Xindi weren't the hate filled cowards he'd decided they had to be? What if most of them were just like him? Wanting nothing more than to live their lives, raise their families. . . .

That caused another shift in his thinking. He'd never have children, not now. Neera had explained that to him, not knowing that Janos, all that time ago, had already told him. He frowned again, and took another sip of his ale.

"What's wrong, Trip?" Neera asked, seeing the pensive look on his face.

"I am," he answered darkly. "I can't. . .I'm almost out of control, Neera. All the time. And it scares me. I don't. . .I don't know what to do."

"Wh. . .Trip, one incident, and not even an incident, thanks to me," she grinned, "doesn't make you out of control."

"It ain't just that," he told her glumly. "I been sittin' here, thinkin' about what we'd do when we got done with where we're goin'." He didn't want to say it aloud, less anyone overhear. "I decided our next project would be to stomp our green friends flat, and put an end to their. . .business."

"I can get behind that," she nodded firmly. "So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that my train o' thought carried me right into decidin' that I'd just kill ever last one of'em. You know, to make sure they didn't come back later, and do it again." Neera blinked at that.

"I can see where that would worry you," she said carefully. "But think about what you just said, Trip. The idea of doing so has obviously disturbed you," she pointed out. "If you really were the. . .being, you think you are, may be," she corrected, "then would it have bothered you at all?"

"No, reckon not," he admitted. "And that made me start thinkin' on where we're goin'. I been plannin' on killin' ever last one of'em, and then shuttlin' down to the planet to piss on their ashes. But," he paused, and took another sip of his ale.

"But what if they ain't all like that?" he continued. "What if most of'em is just like us? Wantin' to just. . .live their lives, and go about their business?" Neera frowned. She hadn't thought of that either, and said so.

"I got to start thinkin' more, and hatin' less," Trip told her. "But now I'm confused, and don't know what the hell to do, anymore." Neera looked past him, and frowned slightly.

"Why don't we worry about crossing that bridge when we arrive at it," she suggested, standing. "Right now, I think Kron might be in trouble."

STE

Malcolm Reed was calm as he stood before Admirals Forrest, Black, and Gardner. He was actually surprised at _how_ calm, considering where he was, and the only possible outcome of this meeting. If he were lucky, he'd be dismissed from Starfleet.

If he wasn't, then he'd probably be spending his immediately foreseeable future in the stockade.

"I demand that you reveal the source of this information!" Gardner almost screamed.

"With respect, sir, I cannot accommodate your request," Malcolm replied, his calm demeanor in sharp contrast to the Admiral.

"Reed, I don't think you understand your situation," Black interjected. "You're withholding valuable information about an enemy of this entire planet. Hell, our entire race! That's close to treason, if it doesn't put you over the line."

"With respect, Admiral, your statement is insulting, and completely false," Malcolm kept his calm tone. "I have, in fact, turned over every single byte of data that I received, holding absolutely nothing back whatsoever. The source of that information insisted on confidentiality in return for the information, and I agreed."

"Because of that agreement, because I gave my _word_ that the source would not, under _any_ circumstance, be revealed, I was promised _further_ information, if and when any became available. I will not compromise that promise. If this source can gather any additional information, we need it."

"You don't even know where they got it!" Forrest joined the fray.

"I do not, nor how it was obtained," Reed admitted. "I would note, however, that at least some of the information provided is in complete agreement with certain things we are already aware of. That in itself isn't enough to assure that the remainder is accurate, but it does raise the confidence level, in my opinion."

Malcolm managed not to wince as he realized what he'd said. It was too late, now.

"_Your_ opinion?" Gardner scoffed. "You have a rather _high_ opinion of yourself, don't you, _Lieutenant_."

Malcolm said nothing. There hadn't been a question, and he knew better than to rise to the bait. He had to be very careful, if he didn't want his future mail addressed to 'care of Starfleet Brig'.

"Nothing to say?" Gardner pressed.

"I wasn't aware there was a question, begging your pardon, sir." Not a trace of smugness, Malcolm congratulated himself.

"Reed, you _are_ going to tell us what we want to know," Forrest warned.

"With respect, sir, no I'm not," came the even reply. He didn't add anything, much as he would have liked to.

"Captain Archer spoke very highly of you, Lieutenant," Forrest changed tactics. Reed didn't miss the flicker of anger that crossed Gardner's face at the mention of Archer. He didn't reply to Forrest's statement.

"Says that you're the best Tactical Officer in all of Starfleet," Forrest added. Again, Reed said nothing.

"You don't have anything to say about that?"

"Sir, what is there for me to say?" Reed asked politely. Respectfully. "I am gratified by my superior's opinion of my abilities and my service to date under his command, but I do not see a connection between that, and our current discussion." Again, Malcolm didn't wince, but knew that using the word 'gratified' had left him open to. . . .

"'Gratified, is it'?" Black growled. "Now you sound like a damned Vulcan."

"Hiram," Forrest warned.

"The influence of trying to communicate effectively with Sub-Commander T'Pol, sir," Reed supplied.

"Are you saying that you have a difficult time working with her?" Gardner demanded.

"Not at all, sir," Reed allowed his surprise to show, this time. "She is an exemplary officer. My reference was to our, meaning the crew as a whole, sir, attempts not to use phrases that she is not familiar with when conversing with her. The use of the word gratified, for instance, is more informative to her than 'proud', or 'pleased'."

His answer seemed to surprise all three of them, and Reed wondered why, before forcing himself back to the subject at hand.

"Reed, you leave me no choice," Forrest sighed. "Unless and until you reveal the source of this intelligence, you'll be held in the brig."

"On what charge, sir?" Malcolm asked repectfully.

"Giving aid and comfort to the enemy, for starters!" Black yelled before Forrest could stop him.

"In that case, gentlemen, I request council, and have nothing further to say."

All three looked at Reed as if he'd grown another head. Malcolm hid his smile. He'd managed to get one of them to more or less formally accuse him of a crime, on the record. That would completely change the proceedings from here on out.

"I'm sure that Admiral Black was simply expressing his frustration with your refusal to co-operate, Lieutenant," Forrest tried to salvage what he could.

"With respect, sir," Malcolm said stiffly. "Admiral Black has accused me of one of the most heinous crimes possible. He has done so in front of witness, and on the record. As the accused, I have rights that I now wish to exercise. That is all that I have to say."

Forrest glared at Black, who was stone faced. Gardner looked apoplectic, and Malcolm allowed himself five seconds to hope it pushed the man into a stroke. It would be the best thing that had happened to Starfleet since the _Enterprise_ had left space dock.

"Lieutenant, let's all just calm down," Forrest was saying. "There's no reason for any of this to be escalate into a legal issue."

Reed looked straight ahead, eyes fixed on a point six inches above the Admiral's heads. And said nothing.

"Lieutenant, you were addressed by a superior officer!" Gardner snapped.

_No, just a higher ranking one_, Malcolm recalled from a movie Trip had once insisted he watch with the engineer.

And said nothing.

"Damn you, answer me!" Gardner yelled, his face suddenly a very deep shade of red.

Reed said nothing, continuing keep his eyes locked into position.

"I _demand_. . .deman. . . ."

Reed did move, then, looking to where Gardner, still red faced, was clutching his chest, gaping. Reed moved to the Admiral's side, regretting his earlier thoughts. He'd never imagined it might really happen.

"Medic!" he heard Forrest calling, as Black moved to Gardner's other side, helping Malcolm lower the man to the floor. Gardner's face had gone suddenly pale, and Malcolm ripped his jacket open, placing his ear to Gardner's chest.

"He's in arrest!" he announced, positioning his hands to begin chest compressions Until the medics arrived, there was nothing else to be done.

"Dammit, get the medics in here now!" Forrest screamed into his com. The dampening field around Starfleet Headquarters prevented Gardner from being beamed out to the hospital at once. Or medics being beamed in to help him.

Malcolm made ten compressions, then lowered his head to Gardner's mouth. He could neither hear, nor feel, breath from the other man. Lifting Gardner's neck, Malcolm cleared the Admiral's mouth, and administered two rescue breaths.

No response.

Malcolm went immediately back to chest compressions, counting silently as he worked. Thank God Phlox had insisted the entire crew be trained in basic life saving.

Ten more compressions, then listen. Nothing. Two more breaths. Still nothing.

Four times Malcolm repeated his efforts. The fourth time he could feel very faint breath on his skin, and immediately dropped his ear again to Gardner's chest.

"He's breathing, and his heart is beating again," he announced as three medics burst into the room, carrying a stretcher full of equipment. Malcolm explained, as quickly and concisely as possible, what had happened, and what he had done.

The para scanned Gardner's body, then looked up.

"Good work, sir," he complimented. "I think you just saved Admiral Gardner's life."

Malcolm sighed with relief, then promptly turned to vomit into a nearby trash container.

"Easy sir," the chief medic said as the other two prepared Gardner for transport. "It's a common occurrence after what you just went through. Rescue breathing is more difficult than it looks in training when you have to do it for real."

"I'll be fine," Reed promised. "See to your patient, please. And thanks, mate," he added, so as not to appear cross. The medic smiled, and returned to Garner's side. Forrest ordered the dampening field lowered, and then Gardner and the medics faded from sight, transported to the hospital.

Seeing Forrest and Black looking at him, Malcolm stiffened to attention.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Forrest was subdued.

"Sir," was Malcolm's only reply.

"I think I owe you an apology, Reed," Black said, almost against his will.

"Yes, sir, you bloody well _do_," Malcolm allowed a hint of anger to creep into his voice, but then stopped.

"When you've composed yourself, Lieutenant," Forrest spoke again, "you're free to return to the _Enterprise_. I'll order a shuttle to be standing by for you at the port."

"Sir?" Reed blinked at that.

"If you receive any more intel, whether on the Xindi or anything else you think we should know, please inform me at once. Captain Archer can reach me at any time."

"Hold the line, Lieutenant," Black told him. "We _are_ working on it." He didn't have to specify what 'it' was.

"Yes, sir," Reed nodded, then looked to Forrest. "By your leave, sir?"

"Carry on, Lieutenant."

Still wondering at the sudden change of events, Malcolm left the office, headed directly to the washroom, where he promptly threw up again. Once he composed himself, as ordered, he headed for the port.

He was back on _Enterprise_ in time for dinner. Most of the crew never even realized he had departed.

STE

Kron was indeed in trouble.

A hulking Klingon held each of his arms, while a third hit him in the stomach.

"You're a lying _thrarg_, and an embarrassment to the entire Klingon Empire," the one who hit him accused. "This place is for _warriors_, you gutless, lying, _cowardly_ scum. There's no place in this galaxy for such as _y. . .ERRRK_. . . ." The tirade cut off as Trip's hand closed on the offender's throat.

The Klingon holding Kron's right arm moved to defend his captain, only to find himself flying across the room, after having his haymaker blocked by Neera with an ease the larger warrior found disturbing. Until he lost consciousness, anyway, his head having left a rather deep impression in the wall he hit.

His right arm freed, Kron immediately buried his right fist into the face of the warrior holding his left arm. The warrior's head shot back, and he lost his grip. Kron's left hand promptly shot into the warrior's mid-section, doubling him over. And double a axe handle blow to the back of the neck put the warrior down for the count.

Meanwhile, Trip looked up calmly at the towering Klingon who had been assaulting his friend. His face was entirely too calm to suit Neera or Kron.

"Now that I got yer attention," Trip drawled conversationally, "let me _intra-duce_ mahself." Neera sighed, hearing the deep drawl, but there was nothing for it now but to play this out to the end. The music had stopped, and everyone in the place was looking their way.

"Ah'm what mah people call the Grim Reaper," Trip smiled. It wasn't a pretty smile. "That's the fella that comes ta get ya when it's yer time ta see what's behind tha veil, so ta speak. And you are?"

"_Urk_," was the only reply as the slowly suffocating Klingon struggled to free himself from the human's iron like grip.

"Now, Kron, here, he works fo' me," Trip went on. "Top o' that, he's mah friend. I fought with'im, drank with'im, told stories with'im. So reckon it's only natch'rul, I hear some _piss ain't _like yaself usin' words like 'lier' and 'co'ard,', well, I take offense to that. And here I find you, all _big and bad, _long as you got two other idiots holdin' him, hittin'im, and threatin'im. Now how'm'Ah s'posed to take that?"

"Trip, be careful," Neera whispered.

"Ah'm just fine, darlin'," Trip replied calmly. His voice made her shiver, and not in a good way.

"My Lord, he is not worth it," Kron said easily from his other side. "I apologize that I have brought shame to your house."

"You ain't brought no shame to mah house," Trip told him flatly. "Don't never say nothin' like that ta me a'gin."

"As you wish, My Lord," Kron saluted. "May I suggest you allow him to breathe, then? So as he might make reply to your questions."

"Ah guess," Trip nodded, but then flung the Klingon in his grasp across the room to rest with his two friends. "Decided I don't care what he has to say. You aw'ight?" he asked Kron. The Warrior nodded.

"I am uninjured, My Lord."

"All right, then," Trip nodded in return. He looked around at the other patrons.

"Sorry for disturbing your evenin', folks," he smiled. "Reckon you can all get back to mindin' yer own business." Behind him, Neera released a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. The drawl was still there, but getting better by the second. There wouldn't be a massacre tonight. Probably.

"What'n the hell was _their_ problem?" Trip asked, as he led Kron to their table, and waved to the little fuzzy waiter.

"I'm afraid that in my zeal, I mentioned not only that I served an alien house, but that my Lord and Lady were among the most accomplished warriors I had ever had the fortune to fight alongside," Kron explained, looking chagrined. "They perceived my words to be an insult, and. . .well, the rest you know," he finished.

"Well, anyhow," Trip sat back. "Reckon we can forget gettin' any help here, after that. Sorry. I kinda got. . .carried away, like."

"I am. . .honored, sir, that you consider me your friend," Kron replied. "And do not be so sure that tonight will not yet meet with good results. Your show of strength, both of you," he looked at Neera, "did not go unnoticed. For now, I suggest we sit here, and be entertained." He accepted the ale from the little waiter, and took a sip. Turning, he motioned with his head toward the stage, speaking in a language Trip's translator couldn't follow. The waiter chittered back in the same language, and hurried off.

"What was all that about?" Trip asked.

"I have asked him to inquire of the human woman's owner," Kron replied. "He also assured me there are no other human's being held captive here, sir."

"Thanks, Kron," Trip smiled. "I appreciate that."

"So now, we wait," Neera said, rather than asked.

"Indeed."

So, wait they did, enjoying their ale, and watching what happened around them. Roughly ten minutes after their fuzzy waiter, Trip really needed to find out what that little fella was, a bluish, well, bluegreenish, well, anyway, wandered over and sat down at the one empty chair.

Three pairs of eyes settled on the stranger, though he seemed to take no notice.

"I am Trel Nee," their translator's let them hear. "The woman you sought after is mine," he informed Kron. "Are you interested in spending the evening in her company? I can arrange for that to happen, if you can afford it."

Kron looked to Trip, who sighed.

"Call me Grim," he told the pimp. "I'm interested in buying her from you, happens that we can reach an agreement."

"Why?" Trel Nee asked, looking surprised. "Why would you want such a creature. Though exotic, she is well used, I'm afraid. Highly popular." Trip's hand tightened on the table, and even Trel Nee could not ignore the sound of creaking wood beneath his grip.

"Let me worry 'bout why I wan'er, you don't mind," he managed to say, almost nicely.

"I saw your demonstration earlier," Nee told him. "You think to take her from me?"

_Don't tempt me_, Trip didn't say.

_Please don't antagonize him_, Neera didn't say.

_Tear his head from his shoulders and be done with him_, Kron didn't say.

"I mean to buy her from you, just like I said," Trip forced his anger down. "Well used'er not, she's a red head, and I kinda like'em skinny like'at," he smiled. His smile wasn't pleasant, as if he had nefarious uses in mind for the woman.

"I see," Nee nodded. "Well, I can sell her to you, I suppose, but, even well used, she will be expensive. She is highly popular, as I said, and I have no idea when, or even if, I'll be able to find another human like her."

"Let's cut to the chase, and you gimme a number," Trip ordered. Nee thought for a moment, and named his price. Trip glanced casually at Kron, who was glaring in open hostility at Nee. Catching his Captain looking his way, Kron nodded, once. The price was reasonable.

"All right, reckon we got a deal," Trip sighed. "Neera, would you pay the man?"

Neera had been quiet so far, gritting her teeth to keep her from ripping Nee's flesh from his bones. Now, Nee turned his attention to her. His eyes ran over her body twice without a hint of shame, eyes glittering. He turned back to Trip.

"How much for her?" he asked, his hand jerking toward Neera.

"She ain't for sale," Trip replied. "She ain't a slave, either," he added.

"Ah, so fair game," Nee smirked, looking back at what he hoped soon to possess.

"Better git that thought right on outta ya head, buddy," Trip actually laughed. "If she don't kill you, and believe me she _can_, then I will. In fact, if you don't find something better to be studyin' on pretty soon, I'ma kill ya anyway, for practice," Trip added, as soon as Nee accepted his payment from Kron. Neera hadn't trusted herself enough to be within arm's reach. Trip looked at her, then at Kron.

"Ya'll go git mah property," he ordered. Both nodded submissively, and left the table.

"That wasn't a proper thing to do," Nee said, once they were gone. "There was no need to insult me in front of the female."

"You're dumb as a box o' rocks, you know that?" Trip replied conversationally. "You already said you saw what happened earlier. Did you reckon she threw that big ole Klingon all that way by accident?"

"I have ways of dealing with unruly possessions," the greasy pimp assured him. "And, I tend to take what I please, Mister Grim, if it does not belong to someone else. Your Klingon does not scare me."

Trip actually snorted into his ale at that one, as he looked back at Nee with wonder.

"You think it's _Kron_ you have to worry about?" Trip asked, trying desperately not to laugh. "You really _are_ that stupid, I guess," he sighed. He saw Neera returning with the woman in tow, Kron deflecting interest in the former slave with a harsh glare and a hand on his dagger.

"Now you insult me," Nee's voice was suddenly stern. "You have no idea who I am, do you human?"

"Don't really care, neither, so don't get all tetchy 'bout it," Trip shrugged. "Anyway, reckon our business is con-cluded, so you can crawl back under whatever rock it was that you slithered out from under." Nee's face changed color, Trip deciding that must be his version of a flush of anger.

"Maybe I better explain myself a little better, Nee," Trip leaned forward. "If you so much as look at her wrong, let alone touch her, I will tear your oddly shaped head right off your body. If that doesn't satisfy me, then I'll likely reach down your neck, and pull ya heart out, if ya got one, and I can find it, anyway."

As he spoke, Trip picked up one of the coins that Kron had used to pay Nee. Placing it between his thumb and fore finger, he twisted his hand, and the coin snapped in two.

That _did_ get Nee's attention. He'd seen coins bent before, and it would have been no surprise to see it here.

Snapping one in half was. . .something else. He looked up again at Trip's serene face, though he wasn't fooled. This man could, and would, kill him.

"Impressive," he managed to say, far, far more calmly than he felt.

"Nah, just a parlor trick," Trip waved it off. "Look here, Nee. We done a nice piece o' business, reckon why you can't let it go at that? Fore you get hurt, I mean," he added, smiling.

Nee, finally seeming to realize that maybe he had over reached, nodded.

"I look forward to doing more business with you in the future," he said calmly. With that, he rose from the table and departed. Trip watched him go, and fought down a desire to follow him, and tear him limb from limb.

"What did you say to him?" Neera asked as she and Kron arrived with the slave.

"Ah, well, just table talk, really," Trip lied easily, making sure he didn't drawl too much. Neera's eyes sharpened.

"This is Kara," Neera introduced the slave.

"Please to meet ya, ma'am," Trip nodded. "Have a seat." The woman sat at once, her hands folded in her lap, eyes downward.

"My L. . .Captain," Kron caught himself. "I believe we have prospects approaching." Trip followed the Klingon's look, where he saw three different people approaching from three different directions.

"Well, reckon we'll take'em as they come," Trip nodded. "Reckon you can git that little fuzzy fella to bring me a pitcher o' water." He looked at Kara.

"You hungry?" he asked. "Kron, they got any kinda food a human can eat around here, you know of?"

"Yes, sir," Kron nodded, and waved for the 'little fuzzy fella'. The waiter hurried over, and Kron placed a generous tip in his hand. He spoke to him in a low voice, and the waiter nodded, hurrying away.

"He will bring water for you, and food for the young woman," Kron stated, taking his seat. Trip looked at the three men, each watching the other was they waited for a sign they'd be welcome.

"Choose one, Neera, and wave'em over, one at a time." She chose them right to left for convenience, and indicated the first one should join them. Kara started to rise.

"Where you going?" Trip asked. The girl froze.

"You ain't got to leave," he told her. "Sit down, your food'll be here soon."

"Yes, master," the girl looked frightened, but obeyed.

"Don't call me that," Trip told her. "Got to call me, call me Grim," he smiled easily. It really was a good nickname.

"Yes, Master Grim," the girl nodded meekly, not looking up. Trip sighed. He didn't have time to reassure her right now, so he let it pass. The first offer approached just then, inclining his head slightly.

"Who are ya, and how can we help ya?"


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER TEN

"So, who are ya, and how can we help ya?" Trip asked.

"My name is Terrel Howard," the human looking man said. "I understand that you are looking for men to provide a security force." Trip was instantly on guard. If this guy wasn't an augment, he'd eat his hat. If he had a hat.

"Might be as I am," Trip nodded. "How many men you talkin' about?"

"We are a team of eight, including myself," Howard answered, looking at Kara. "You allow the slave to sit, while a potential employee stands before you?" he asked, a bit harshly. Trip didn't like the superiority in his tone.

"Reckon we're done, Mister Howard," Trip told the obvious augment. "Treat your men to a drink on me, and have a good evening," he nodded to Kron, who made a motion Trip didn't understand to the waiter.

"You don't even know our qualifications!" Howard objected.

"Well, I know an augment when I see one," Trip replied. "And I know an arrogant jackass when I see one, too, I reckon. Don't really care that you're an augment."

"But anyone reckons human slavery is okay, that's somebody I don't need on my boat. So thanks anyway, and please be on ya way," Trip made a shooing motion, and Howard's face tightened.

"Don't do somethin' you'll regret, now," Trip warned softly, smiling. It was clear that he was _inviting_ Howard to do just that. Perhaps looking forward to it.

Howard wasn't stupid, however. He hadn't survived this long without some smarts. Rather than argue, he nodded, and walked away.

"You make friends everywhere you go, don't you dear?" Neera shook her head, sighing.

"Just get the next'un," Trip sniffed airily, causing Neera to snort. Kron laughed once, shortly, and even Kara started to giggle, but instantly cut herself off.

"None o' that, now," Trip said gently. "You're safe, now, I promise. You ain't no slave, no more, either, but reckon you better play like you are til we get shut o' this place."

"Of course, Master," Kara murmured. He food arrived, and she looked up, expectantly.

_Waiting for permission to eat_, Neera thought sadly. She reached out gently.

"Honey, you don't have to wait, or ask, just eat, if you're hungry," she said softly. "I'm willing to bet you are."

"Yes, mistress," Kara nodded, and lifted her hand.

"Don't call me that," Neera ordered. "We'll work on that later," she said, seeing Kara jerk. "Just eat." Kara nodded, eyes full of unshed tears.

Before Trip could speak, a Denobulan arrived at their table. He bowed respectfully.

"My name is Tragon-Das," he said formally. "At your service."

"Don't see too many Denobulan soldiers out here," Trip said easily.

"There aren't many," Tragon admitted. "My men and I are a squad of Denobulon special forces soldiers who. . .well, we found ourselves without a war to fight. So, we went in search of another."

"Find one? Trip asked, gently.

"One always finds war, if he looks hard enough," Tragon nodded. "We are currently looking for another one."

"How many of you are there?" Trip asked.

"Seventeen," Tragon informed him. "What is left of over forty," he added softly.

"Lost some in the first war, I imagine," Trip commented softly.

"Far too many to simply quit, and leave their killers unpunished," Tragon nodded. "But. . .orders are orders."

"That they are," Trip nodded. "Got any references?"

"I do, sir," the man held out a PADD, which Kron took, and began looking at.

"I have heard of this man," Kron said evenly. "He is honorable, and a fine warrior, as are all his men."

"My thanks," Tragon bowed. "From a Klingon Warrior, that is indeed high praise."

"Want to know what the job is?" Trip asked.

"Not really," Tragon shrugged. "Whatever you are doing will be violent, and you will need men capable of great violence. We require set ROE's, equipment allowances, and complete medical."

"We're going somewhere pretty bad. Ain't no point in lyin', som'o'ya won't be comin' back, in all likelihood. Maybe none of us."

"We have nothing to come back too, anyway, sir," was the only response. Trip looked at Kron, who nodded, then he turned his attention to Neera. She also nodded.

"Well, Tragon, reckon you and your men might have a job. There's a shuttle from a freighter called _Athena_ bout a half-klick from the bar. Reckon you and your men can meet us there in the morning."

"We'll be there," Tragon promised.

"Meanwhile, you and your men enjoy your night on me," he said, offering him a small bag of the coins Kron had told him were accepted here.

"My thanks, Captain," Tragon accepted the money. "Until the morning," he added, and departed. Neera motioned for the last man, a Klingon, and waved him over.

"Got a name?" Trip asked, genially. The new arrival looked at Kron, who stared back with a blank face. Turning back to Trip, the young Klingon drew himself fully erect, standing almost seven feet tall.

"My name is Bat'el," he said. "I have twelve men in my service, all experienced and well trained. What work would you have for such a force?"

"Well, I need men used to workin' in space, or at least familiar with it. Men who can fight on ship if needed, or on the ground. They need to be able to board and capture ships, prisoners, and intelligence. You got any references?" The young Klingon handed over a PADD with the required information. Trip looked at it, then passed it to Kron, who merely handed it to Neera without looking at it. The younger Klingon bristled at that, but kept silent.

Kron's face revealed nothing.

"What do you two think?" Trip asked after giving Neera time to look it over.

"They have experience where we need it, if this is accurate," Neera told him, handing the PADD back. Trip turned to Kron.

"I am afraid I can offer no opinion on this one, Captain," he said simply.

"Huh?"

"Afraid to speak, then?" Bat'el pushed.

"You would not wish to hear my words," Kron told him, his tone flat.

"Your owner has given you leave to speak, dog, so why don't you. . . ." Bat'el's mini-rant was cut off as Kron reached up, grabbed the younger Klingon by his leather shirt, and slammed his head to the table, where he held tight.

"He is a liar, and a braggart," Kron told Trip, over the struggling Bat'el's head. Neera noticed several Klingons headed their way, and reached into her jacket to grasp the disruptor held inside in a shoulder holster. As the Klingon's approached, however, the oldest spread his arms, holding the others back, a look of amusement replacing his earlier look of anger and outrage.

"He has given you a false name," Kron went on, "failed to mention that he, in all likelihood does _not_ lead the group he belongs to, that he is still a mere _child_, and should be in his father's house, where. He. _Belongs_!"

"Y'know, I'm startin' to get the impression you two know each other," Trip said easily, sitting back in his chair.

"He is, unfortunately, the youngest son of my father's third wife," Kron replied with great reluctance."

"Wait," Trip leaned forward again. "You two are brothers?"

"_No_!" both voices replied at once. This brought laughter from the assembled Klingons behind them. The older, grey-haired warrior stepped forward.

"Ah, Kron, I see you still have your sense of humor!"

STE

"Why have you brought him with you?" Kron demanded, having released 'Bat'el' from the table, and pushed him toward the others, where two older warriors restrained him easily.

"Manners, Kron," the older Klingon reminded him. "You were certainly taught better than that." Kron looked distinctly uncomfortable at that, but straightened himself.

"My Lord and Lady. . .Grim, may I introduce you to Dru'hak, the finest warrior it has ever been my honor to know. Dru'hak, Lord and Lady Grim, who's house I now serve."

"Well met," Dru'hak said, saluting much as Kron had done.

"I understand you wish to hire soldiers," Dru'hak turned to business.

"You still have not explained his presence," Kron replied. Dru'hak sighed.

"It was your father's idea," he admitted. "The boy needs leavening, and your father believed, rightly, that I could give it to him."

"He does not appear leavened to me," Kron noted in disdain.

"I am not yet finished with him," Dru'hak shrugged. "He is even more troublesome than you were," he added, with malicious glee. Kron turned to Trip.

"My Lord, yes, he is my youngest brother, Klec. His is. . .difficult."

_And people say Klingons aren't diplomatic_, Trip mused to himself.

"Kron, I take it you'd endorse Dru'hak and his men?"

"Without question, save one," Kron refused to let his brother's presence go.

"You should leave such worries to your betters, Kron," Dru'hak scolded.

"Older does not imply 'better'," Kron replied stiffly, though with some underlying amusement. "And you are nothing if not old," he added.

"Well, that's true," Dru'hak laughed. "And you always did have a problem with authority."

"Ya'll can get all caught up on yer own time," Trip laughed. It was clear the two had respect for one another. "Dru'hak, we _are_ looking for men. Soldiers. Men who can fight on ship, or on the surface." He leaned forward.

"It's a dirty job, and it'll be violent. You'll almost certainly lose men, and there's no way 'round it. Pays well, but I'm afraid you'll earn ever penny."

"Without battle, we are nothing," Dru'hak shrugged, unconcerned. "Should we perish in combat, then that is a fitting death, an honorable death, for any Klingon. Kron, is this a job I would want?" he asked, serious.

"There will be much combat," Kron nodded. "Against a hard foe. One we will destroy, or die in the attempt. It is a matter of honor for the House Grim. There is no alternative save victory or death."

"We'll take it," Dru'hak said at once. "For you to say such, Kron, intrigues me. It must be quite the battle in the offing."

"I intend to make it so," Trip nodded. "Our ship, the _Athena_, is nearby. We'll leave early. Do you have problems working with other races?" Trip asked politely. "We will also have Denobulan soldiers aboard, along with human warriors, and possibly others. Most of those others will be ship crew, including at least one Vulcan, our chief engineer. Some of your men may have to work with him, which means taking his orders."

"It is unusual to see a Vulcan working on a ship other than their own," Dru'hak commented.

"Not your usual Vulcan," Trip shrugged. "Will it be a problem?"

"No, Captain, it will not. My men are disciplined, save perhaps for 'Bat'el'," he laughed. "And I assure you, he will be, when the time comes," he added, a bit more serious.

"Sounds like a winner to me, then," Trip smiled. He handed Dru'hak a bag similar to the one he'd given Tragon. "You and your men enjoy the rest of the night, with my blessing. We'll be leaving at 0800. I expect you to be aboard by 0700, so we can get you settled."

"We will be there," Dru'hal nodded, accepting the money. "Until then, Captain."

"We're heading back now, I reckon," Trip decided. "Been a long day. Kron, would you like to stay with Dru'hak and his men tonight?"

"If you have no need of me, sir, I would enjoy it."

"Take the night off, then, but you better be on board. Don't wanna lose you."

"I will be there."

Trip stood, and Kara immediately jumped to her feet. Neera stood as well, trying to calm the girl.

"See you two in the mornin'," Trip nodded. The three of them departed then, Kara still jumping at almost every motion.

"Perhaps we should send men along with them," Dru'hak said softly. "This is not a place for a man to be alone with two women."

"Never make the mistake of thinking Lord and Lady Grim cannot take care of themselves," Kron shook his head. "I have seen them in battle, and they are nothing short of amazing. I saw, with my own eyes, Lord Grim tear the head from an Orion slaver. With his hands," Kron added for emphasis.

"I was not aware humans possessed such strength."

"I do not believe they are ordinary humans," Kron confided.

"I should think not," Dru'hal scoffed. "If they were, I would not expect you to give your allegiance to their house."

With that they rejoined the rest of the group, where the more seasoned warriors were still razing Klec.

It was almost a foregone conclusion there would be a fight before the night was over.

STE

As Trip and Neera walked along, Kara tried to fall in behind them, but Neera would have none of that.

"Come up here with us, Kara," she ordered gently.

"Of course, Mistress," Kara replied at once.

"Kara, I'm not your Mistress, and 'Grim' here certainly isn't your Master," Neera told her calmly. "He simply didn't want to leave you here at the mercy of these. . .people. Especially that jackass Nee."

"Now that is not nice," Nee's voice came to them from the dark, and Kara let out a startled _eep_. Trip turned to see Nee behind them, flanked by two Orions, each with a stunner. Nee held a disruptor, pointed at Trip.

"I have come for the woman," Nee said simply. "It will be my pleasure to teach her how to address and refer to her betters," he added.

"You just couldn't let it be, could ya?" Trip sighed, pulling Kara behind him. "I had decided you might have two brain cells to rub together, but. . .well, I been wrong before."

"Normally I would not retake a slave I had sold," Nee told him. "Seeing as how you will soon be dead, however, I will be taking the other back as well."

"Neera, I got a feeling you'd like to get to know Mister Nee a little better," Trip said casually.

"You have no idea," the Amazon growled, her voice suddenly deep, gravely. Trip glanced over at her, and was surprised to see two fangs protruding from her mouth.

"Well, reckon I'll take the Orions, then," he said. Her only response was a nod. Trip looked at Kara.

"You stay here, and get down on the ground," he told her gently. "This won't take but a minute." She obeyed at once, kneeling. She instantly placed her hands behind her, with her head lowered. For some reason that enraged him.

"Whenever you're ready," he told Neera, who suddenly leaped at Nee too fast for the eye to follow. Trip was right behind her.

It took three minutes, it turned out, since Neera really, _really_, didn't like Nee. The Orions were no problem, especially since Trip had fought them before. Four blows, two dead Orions, and one very pissed off Trip, having had a shock stick used on him _again_.

"I'ma find me whoever invented these, and shove one straight up'is ass," Trip swore, holding one of the shock sticks in his hands.

Neera finally dropped Nee's lifeless body to the ground, gently wiping her mouth as she did so.

"Easy, darlin'," Trip said cautiously. She turned to him, eyes still wild, but slowly coming into focus.

"I think I can get behind your original idea where the Orions are concerned," she growled.

"And you say _I'm_ dangerous?" he laughed.

"Yes," she told him. "I was just mad," she added. "Bastard," she hissed, kicking Nee's lifeless body just once more.

They turned to see Kara still kneeling, but now with a look of shock on her face.

"Take it easy, gal," Trip said, trying to reassure her. "Everything's okay, now. Ain't nobody gonna hurt. . . ." He stopped there, since Kara had fainted.

"Well, shit."

STE

It took a little while the next morning to get everyone loaded up and situated. The _Athena_ was a pretty good sized freighter, capable of Warp 4 in a pinch, and had ample cargo room that allowed everyone a place to bunk, and to store gear. Once the ship was loaded, they lifted off, Trip anxious to be underway.

One hour later, well into space, Trip, Neera and Kron met with Tragon and Dru'hak.

"Either one o' ya'll ever been into the Delphic Expanse?" Trip asked. Dru'hak shook his head no, while Tragon stiffened a bit.

"I take it that's a yes?" Trip asked gently.

"We have, sir," the Denobulan replied. "It is a. . .strange place. One where death comes easily, and from any direction."

"Well, of_ course_ it is," Neera sighed. "I mean if it wasn't, we wouldn't need to go there, would we?"

"I have heard of it, but never been there," Dru'hak shrugged. "What I have heard, I do not like," he admitted.

"Well, that's where we're goin'," Trip told them. "Inside there, somewhere, is a race called the Xindi. I aim to hunt them down, and kill them all." Trip's voice was dull and flat, empty of all emotion.

"That is likely to be a large order," Tragon replied. "The Expanse is huge, Captain. If you don't know where they are, then. . . ." He shrugged.

"We'll find'em," Trip promised. "No matter how long it takes, or what it takes," his voice hardened. "I'm sure you two have heard by now about the Xindi attack on Earth?" Both nodded.

"Well, that attack killed seven million o' my people," Trip continued. "One of'em was my youngest sister." Understanding dawned on both men at that revelation. Klingons and Denobulans were both well known for their loyalty to family.

"We will help you get your revenge," Dru'hak said harshly, nodding in approval.

"My men understand the loss of family all too well," Tragon spoke more quietly, but with no less conviction. "We will go with you, for as long as it takes." He paused.

"Captain, if I may," he continued, "this vessel, while a good ship, will not likely survive long enough in the expanse for you to have your revenge. There are. . .anomalies, of some sort, inside the Expanse that simple consume weaker vessels. There are also many violent races and beings inside. Piracy and other attacks will happen, no matter how careful."

"Well, we ain't goin' there in this ship, though I agree, she's a good one," Trip smiled. "I've designed and built a ship designed for this job, and that's what we'll be taking into the Expanse. And the first pirate to cross our path will wish he hadn't."

"I see," Tragon nodded. "Do you have sufficient amounts of Trellium D to coat your hull?"

"What?" the question caught Trip by surprise. Tragon sighed gently.

"As I thought," he nodded. "You are not aware of the violent nature of the anomalies within the Expanse."

"Ah, not as such, no," Trip was getting an uneasy feeling.

"These anomalies, often referred to as micro-singularities, can damage a vessel, but that is not the worst. The anomalies pass through your ship, Captain, and anyone they strike is. . .well, if they are fortunate, they are killed instantly."

"What if they are not, 'fortunate'," Neera asked, concern evident in her voice.

"I have seen beings of many races who were. . .for lack of a better term, turned inside out. Alive."

There was a general silence around the table, as the others exchanged looks. Trip's gaze eventually returned to Tragon.

"So, you know what this. . .Trellium D is?" he asked. "And where we can get some?"

"As it happens, I do," Tragon smiled slightly.

STE

With the meeting over, Trip and Neera decided to check on Kara. They headed for her bunk, talking as they walked along.

"I'll send a message to Tarn that we're gonna need that Trellium D, and get him working on making a deal with this. . .well, the fella that Tragon told us about," he frowned. Despite repeated attempts to pronounce the alien name, Trip had given up.

"I'm glad we met Tragon," Neera nodded. "I do not like the idea of being turned inside out," her shiver added emphasis to the statement.

"I hear that," Trip agreed, stopping as they arrived at Kara's door. Trip rang the chime.

No response.

He looked at Neera and then tried again.

Nothing.

"Kara?" Neera called, frowning.

"Yes, Mistress?" they heard her reply.

"Okay if we come in?"

"Of course, Mistress."

"What is the deal here do you reck. . . ." Trip trailed off as the door opened, revealing a nude Kara, kneeling in the middle of the floor, hands behind her neck, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"What in the blazes o' hell?" Trip said before he could stop himself.

"Kara, get up, and put some clothes on," Neera ordered.

"My clothing has not been returned, Mistress," Kara told her. "This one if forbidden to wear covering of any kind without permission," she added.

"Yeah, well, that's over, as o' now," Trip told her, stripping the sheet from her bunk, and covering the nude girl's form.

"Kara, wrap yourself in this sheet, and then take a seat," Neera told her, moving to help her.

"As you wish, Mistress," Kara hurried to obey.

"Stop calling me Mistress, Kara," Neera said gently. "Just Neera, okay?"

"As you wish Mistress Neera."

Trip had an epiphany about then.

"Kara, how long have you been a captive?" he asked gently.

"This one is unaware of that information, Master," came the reply. Trip's hand halted Neera's repeating the 'don't call me that' line. Instead, he motioned her outside.

"Kara, wait here for a few minutes, and we'll find ya somethin' more suitable to wear, okay?"

"This one is accustomed to others seeing her unclothed, Master, if you wish me to remain so."

"No, no, I don't think that's necessary," Trip told her. "Going naked around here might not a good idea. Lot's o' things on a ship can hurt ya."

"I am accustomed to pain, Master," Kara informed him, still not looking up.

"Well, then, you can get accustomed to not havin' any, then. Right?"

"As you desire, Master." Trip led Neera outside, the closed and locked the door.

"Why did you lock her in?" Neera demanded.

"Make her feel safer," Trip explained as they moved down the passageway, where they could talk without being interrupted. "She's been conditioned to behave like that, Neera. Breakin' her out of it'll probably require a shrink, and a lotta time. Until then, we're gonna have to be real careful how we handle her."

Understanding came slowly to Neera, but as it did, her face grew dark, and slightly contorted.

"Easy, there, darlin'," Trip said softly.

"How can. . .how can you be so _calm_ about this!" Neera wanted to scream, but settled for an ugly hiss.

"Well, I ain't got a lotta choice at the moment," he admitted. "Since we bought'er, we're responsible for her care. Got to keep my anger back so I can see to her needs. She needs a doctor for sure, and then, like I said, probably a lotta time with a shrink." Neera's harsh look softened at that, and she nodded.

"That poor girl," she said softly.

"We'll take care of her," Trip promised. "Meanwhile, how 'bout you get her something to wear, and show her around the ship. Maybe that'll at least make her feel more at ease. While you do that, I'll make a few calls."

"Okay," she agreed. She kissed him gently, deeply, then walked away to do his bidding.

Only when she was gone did Trip allow his anger to surface.

As soon as the Xindi were taken care of, he decided. Just as soon as that was done, he was going to crush the Orion Syndicate into space atoms. No, he decided, maybe something smaller.

STE

"Archer to Reed, report to my ready room, please."

"_On the way, sir_."

Just yesterday, Jon had expected to lose Reed's service for the fore-seeable future, if not permanently, and now this.

"I guess a day really does make the difference," he said to himself. Five minutes later, a slightly disheveled Reed entered.

"I apologize for my appearance, Captain," the fastidious Brit said at once. "I was in the Armory when you called."

"Never mind." Jon waved it away, and hit his com again.

"T'Pol, Phlox, please come to my ready room at once," he ordered.

"_On my way_," Phlox replied in his almost jovial manner.

"_I am on the way there, Captain_," a more reserved reply came from T'Pol. Both arrived in just a few minutes.

"Thank you for joining us," Archer told them. "This won't take but a minute or so." He looked at Reed.

"Atten'hut! Mister Reed!" he didn't quite shout, and Reed's Pavlovian reflexes snapped his body taunt.

"Commander T'Pol, please read the charges," he handed a PADD to her, which she took, her Eyebrow of Polite Inquiry rising to very nearly disappear into her hairline. She scanned the page briefly, and Archer would forever swear he saw the barest hint of a twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"These are rather. . .serious," T'Pol shocked him further by helping him, just a little."

"I only just received them," Archer said grimly, giving Reed the 'Eye'.

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Starfleet, current assinment, NX-01 Enterprise is here-by awarded the Starfleet Medal of Meritorious Service for actions performed on the date of. . .yesterday, apparently," she concluded, lowering the PADD.

"Doctor Phlox, you should be very gratified to learn that yesterday, while being interrogated by Admirals Forrest, Black, and Gardner that Lieutenant Reed was credited for saving the life of Admiral Gardner. Admiral Gardner is now in Starfleet Hospital, San Francisco, recovering from cardiac and respiratory arrest."

"Outstanding, Lieutenant!" Phlox intoned, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Well done!"

"Thank you, sir," Reed managed to stammer, realizing that he'd been tricked. "It was your training that allowed me to resuscitate him."

"Probably made more than one enemy saving him, Malcolm," Jon snorted. "I'm proud that I'm the one who gets to do this," he added, placing the medal on Reed's uniform.

"That thought did occur to me, sir," Reed admitted, chagrined. "But I thought that Commander Phlox would have been very disappointed in me, had I allowed it to happen."

"And I was just kidding," Jon snorted. "Mostly," he added after a moment's thought. "Unfortunately that's not all," he sighed, and Reed fidgeted. First the carrot, then the hammer, he thought. He hadn't escaped after all.

"Effective immediately, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed is promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. His duty status and posting are to remain unchanged."

"Congratulations, Malcolm," Jon grinned, knowing he'd just gotten the Briton again. "And, I have something here for you, if you want them," he added, taking a small box from his desk. "I remember the day I pinned these on Trip," he said softly. "And I remember the day he gave them back, when he made Commander. I think he'd be pleased to see you wear them, if you'd like."

"Sir, I. . ." Malcolm struggled with that to say. Finally he just nodded, and said, "Yes, sir. I'd be honored." Jon arranged the new rank on Reed's uniform, then smiled, slapping the younger man on the shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, Malcolm," he said earnestly.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Reed," T'Pol offered her blessing as well.

"Very good, Mister Reed!" Phlox was more animated, shaking the younger human's hand as well. "Richly deserved, in my opinion.

"Thank you, sir," Reed replied.

"I'm sorry for. . .well, no, I'm not," Jon gave way to laughter. "If you could have seen your face!" he almost howled. Phlox joined in, while T'Pol merely looked on.

"You had me going, sir," the still sweating Reed admitted.

"We all needed a good laugh, Malcolm," Jon admitted. "Thanks for being a good sport about it."

"The promotion helps assuage my injured feelings, sir," Reed rewarded the trio with a rare smile.

"I do wonder why I had to learn of this through an award certificate, Mister Reed," Jon told him.

"I just didn't think it was something that needed to be in my report, sir," Malcolm answered honestly. "I was actually expecting to receive orders to return for further questioning, or possible imprisonment."

"Well, that's not going to happen," Archer told him confidently. "Whatever really happened, and I'd really like to hear that some day, Admiral Forrest was about as subdued as I've ever seen him, and we go back a ways."

"You have brought great honor to the ship, and the crew, Commander Reed," T'Pol agreed. "Well done."

"Thank you, Commander," Reed nodded.

"Well, go on, and start showing off," Jon shooed him. "Get back to work, Mal."

"Sir," Reed stiffened, then departed.

"T'Pol, could I impose on your for one more minute," Archer asked.

"Of course, Captain. How may I serve."

As Reed neared the lift, he heard the ship wide com go active.

"_Crew of the Enterprise, Attention to Orders_," the sultry voice of T'Pol began. "_Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. . . ._" She read the entire thing in the same tone. By the time Reed reached the Armory, there was a reception party waiting.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Yes, I've heard of it," Grav replied. "It's a useless substance, with no redeeming qualitites. Very similar to you, in that regard."

"Grav, I ain't in the mood fer this right now," Trip growled. "According to one o' the men we hired, a man that's actually been there, _not_ having the Trellium D compound on the hull could kill us all, if we hit one o' them anomalies. Find some, and get to work coating both the inner and outer hulls with the stuff. Understand?"

"I suppose you'll want to apply this ridiculous and unneeded treatment to the other ships as well?" Grav demanded.

"Not. . .not at this point," Trip decided. "Once the Xindi are finished, reckon we won't have much call to go back in there."

"Some restraint, at least," Grav snorted. "Will miracles never cease."

"Get to work," Trip ordered, and shut off the com, before he put his fist through it. He sat back, considering.

He didn't know anything about this stuff. Maybe they needed to test it a bit, before they actually used it. He shook his head, pushing the thought away. He'd ask Tragon about it, when he got the chance.

But the chance didn't arrive, and Trip soon forgot about it, being more concerned with other things.

STE

"Admiral Forrest for you, Captain," Hoshi announced. Jon sighed, wondering what useless orders or information he was being sent now.

"My ready room, Hoshi," he ordered. "T'Pol, you have the bridge."

"Yes, Captain." Archer entered his ready room, sat down behind his desk, took a deep, calming breath, and hit the accept.

"Good morning, Jon," Forrest smiled. "I have new orders for you. Orders that, for once, you'll like."

"Very well, sir," Jon straightened. Probably going to rotate crew, he thought morosely. All the time and trouble he'd spent to make sure that _Enterprise_ had the best possible crew for her maiden journey, and now. . . .

"_Columbia_ will be relieving you on station in two hours," Forrest told him. "You are to return to Jupiter Station as soon as you're relieved for upgrades and refit. Your crews will have seven days leave, starting twenty-four hours after docking. Once your refit is completed, Captain, you'll be taking _Enterprise_ into the Delphic Expanse. I'll give you the full briefing when you reach Starfleet Headquarters. Until then, Forrest out." The screen went blank, just like Jon's face. Not to mention his head.

He sat as still as he could for a minute, then jumped up from his desk.

"_Yes!_" he howled, pumping a raised fist into the air. Ten seconds later, his ready room door burst open, to reveal Malcolm Reed, phase pistol at his side.

"Captain, are you okay?" he asked, looking around.

"Hell yes!" Archer couldn't contain his excitement. "Senior Staff to the conference room in ten minutes. Also, advice the Beta crewmen to expect Columbia within two hours."

"Yes, sir," Reed nodded, and disappeared. One half-minute later, the door reopened, and T'Pol stepped inside.

"I take it that, for once, you are not displeased with our orders?" she inquired.

"You take it right!" Archer smiled. He almost reached out to hug the reserved Vulcan, but realized in time that it wouldn't be appropriate. He nevertheless got an Eyebrow of Reminder and Admonishment.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm just really happy, T'Pol."

"May I inquire what it is that has given you this. . .euphoria?"

"We're heading in to Jupiter Station for refit and upgrade as soon as _Columbia_ is on station," he told her. "Week's leave for the crew, Earthside. Then, once we've completed our upgrades, we're headed for the Expanse." Another Eyebrow.

"I admit this is unexpected," T'Pol said. "I was under the impression that no such mission was planned for the foreseeable future. What has changed?"

"No idea, and I don't really care," Jon told her. "I've called a staff meeting, so, I'll see you there in about ten minutes, okay?"

"Indeed," T'Pol nodded.

STE

"I wonder why now?" Reed was the first to broach the question, after Archer had brought them all up to date.

"I don't know, but Forrest promised to tell me, as soon as I reported to him for briefing."

"Sir, if I may?" Reed asked, and Jon motioned for him to go on.

"I strongly suggest you not inform the crew of this until they return from leave," the security officer told him.

"Why?"

"Sir, first of all, they can't tell what they don't know," Reed ticked off. "Secondly, allow the crew to enjoy their leave without having to think about what we're about to do. It may well be a long time before we have leave again, especially here at home."

"A sound suggestion, Captain," T'Pol added her agreement.

"I must concur as well, Captain," Phlox rarely said anything in these meetings unless it was in reference to how the crew might be affected. "They need the rest and relaxation to help recover from the strain they have all been under."

"Very well, then, that's how we'll play it," Archer agreed. "Anything else like that?"

"We need to have department heads think long and hard about what supplies they may need," Hoshi suggested. "That includes the Quartermaster as well. We'll be a long way from anywhere we can draw resupply from."

"I'd thought along those lines myself," Jon nodded. "Still, we'll work that into the que after crew leave. I'd like to have everyone's input on that one," he added, for clarification. "We have no idea how long we may be out. Even the simplest thing now might be important two months into the Expanse."

"I will work to make sure the infirmary is sufficiently stocked," Phlox offered. "It may be that we will need a medical stasis for long term storage of certain drugs or treatment regimens. We'll also need an ample supply of basic ingredients. We may find ourselves needing to develop our own treatments."

"I concur," T'Pol nodded. "I will assist you in that endeavor, Doctor."

"I would welcome your input."

"Okay, for now, we have a lot of things to get done," Jon wrapped up the meeting. "Everyone keep thinking on this, and make notations for later study. For now, we have to hand off to _Columbia_, and get back to Jupiter Station."

STE

"Good to see you, Erika," Jon smiled at the face on his screen.

"Yeah, yeah," his former lover snorted delicately. "You just want to go dirtside for a bit."

"Well, that too," Jon knew he was grinning like a schoolboy, but couldn't stop himself. "I admit, it'll be nice to hit the 602, even for a couple beers and out. How's your new command?" he asked.

"Mine," Erika smiled just as big as Jon. "I can't even begin to tell you, but then, I don't have to, do I?"

"Nope, you don't," Jon laughed. "I'm proud of you Erika. And proud for you."

"Thanks, Jon," Erika nodded. "I appreciate it."

"You deserve to be in that chair, Erika," Jon said seriously. "Don't forget it. Okay?"

"I'll try and keep it in mind," she said, a softer smile on her face this time.

There was still a lot between them, even now, both realized at the same time. Only Starfleet, and their own desire to be part of history had kept them from seeing just what might have been.

"Well, we have to go," Jon said finally. "I'm supposed to head back the minute you're on station."

"You are relieved, Captain," Erika said formally. "We've already received your logs. Anything to add?"

"Just be watchful," Trip shrugged helplessly. "And maybe press the edge of the patrol area with the frigates whenever you can," he grinned. "Adding that distance to their sensors might give you and extra few minutes warning."

"I'll take that under close advisement," Erika nodded, which meant she'd do it, but didn't want to say it on the record.

"Jon, there's a lot of scuttlebutt about your upgrades," Erika commented. "I don't know where you're going, or what you're going to do, but. . .be safe, all right? Be safe, and come home that way."

"I promise, I'll do my best," Jon replied. "Take care of yourself, Erika. I'll. . .I'll see you when I see you, I guess."

"Safe journey, Captain," Erika nodded. "_Columbia_, out."

Jon spared a moment to reflect on how things might have once been, then reached over and hit his com.

"Mister Mayweather, take us in. Full impulse."

"_On our way, sir_."

_Enterprise_ was on her way home.

STE

Trip sat in front of the com unit for a long while before finally entering the address he needed. It took a few minutes, but he was soon looking at the face of Janos.

The very _annoyed_ face, he amended.

"Mornin' boss," Trip smiled.

"You had better have an _excellent_ reason for calling me at," Janos looked to his side, and his scowl deepened. "Two twenty in morning," he growled.

"Got a pretty decent one, yeah," Trip nodded. "We managed to recruit a pretty good ground force. Seventeen former Denobulan Special Forces, and a squad o' Klingons."

"You felt the need to wake me for that?" Janos almost hissed.

"Well, no," Trip admitted. "I got a problem, and I. . .I don't know how to deal with it. I need some guidance." Janos' scowl might,_ might_, have lessened an entire millimeter.

"I'm waiting," he finally said, when Trip didn't continue. "And I dislike waiting."

"I'll add that to the list," Trip promised. "I bought a human slave girl," he went on. "One that's pretty messed up, here," he pointed to his head. "She needs help that none of us could ever hope to give her. I need. . .well, I need a doctor, and maybe a shrink. Or permission to send her to Earth."

"What is her name?" Janos asked, suddenly far more interested.

"Only name we can get, so far, is Kara," Trip shrugged helplessly. "Don't know if that's the name her folks gave'er, of it's just a name the slaver hung on her."

"Who is this slaver?" Janos demanded.

"The late Trel Nee," Trip said flatly.

"Late," Janos repeated. "Charles, why must you _always_ over react. It would nice, on occasion, if you at least _attempted_ to take prisoners. Prisoners from whom we might gain valuable information."

"Sorry," Trip replied, meaning it. "I'll work on it. Really, I will," he added at the look on Janos' face.

"Well, what's done is done," Janos sighed. "You're in luck, Charles," he added. "I've already consulted a physician who will accompany you on your voyage. Her name is Delana Grix, a Betazoid doctor, who can also serve as a ship's councilor."

"Never met one," Trip admitted. "Glad she's a woman. Might make Kara feel a bit more at ease."

"She should also be able to assist the young woman with her return to society. If she cannot, then I will make the appropriate arrangements."

"I appreciate it, boss," Trip nodded. "We'll be back on the station in a few hours. We're gettin' close to launch, too," he added.

"Good," Janos nodded firmly. "Be under way as soon as you can. Starfleet is up to something, but I do not yet know what it is."

"Yes, sir," Trip nodded.

"Now, is that all, or can I go back to sleep?" Janos demanded gruffly.

"That's all, sir," Trip managed to fight off his smile at the grumpy tone of voice. "And I am sorry for disturbing you."

"No, you're not," Janos sighed. "You're the problem son I never wanted," he added, with a snort. "Put her on the next freighter home, Charles. We'll find out who she is, and where she came from."

"Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir," Trip smiled, and cut the signal.

STE

Janos had neglected to inform him that Delana Grix was beautiful. Trip's new and improved Mark Three hearing heard Neera's sharp intake of breath as their new physician entered the station through the airlock.

Pale skin, jet black hair, and a mouth watering figure, all bundled together in a dazzling, smile covered dynamo of energy.

_Why do I have a feeling I'll regret meeting her_? Trip wondered.

"Oh, my," Delana Grix stopped short, eyeing Trip closely.

"Ma'am?" Trip was startled. "Uh, I'm Charles Tucker, ma'am, and this is Tarn, the station commander," he indicated the Andorian. "And this is Neera, my second," he added.

"I'm pleased to meet you," the Betazoid woman almost purred. Trip felt Neera move closer to him.

"Doctor, I hate to impose on you as you've just arrived. . . ." Trip began.

"Oh, feel free to impose away," Grix gave him a dazzling smile. "How _ever_ can I be of service, Mister Tucker."

_I'm so dead_.

STE

"Oh, dear," Grix murmured as they observed Kara through the window of the station hospital. "She is in great turmoil, poor dear."

"How can. . . ."

"I'm sorry," Grix turned to face Trip and the others. "We Betazoid are, for the most part, empathic at least. In my case, I also have a modest telepathic gift as well. I can. . .sense, her turmoil, even without touch."

"What can you share with us?" Trip asked.

"She is afraid, confused, and unsure of her situation," Grix replied as her gaze lost it's focus. "She. . .she does not understand the nature of her relationship with you. The two of you, actually," Grix indicated Trip and Neera both. "She knows that you purchased her from h. . .oh, dear," her gaze sharpened.

"The two of you are quite the pair," she said cautiously.

"Something you'd do well to remember," Neera didn't quite hiss, moving closer to Trip, and taking his hand into hers. She'd had enough, and decided to stake her claim now.

"Neera," Trip said gently. "This is about Kara, remember." Neera snorted lightly, but nodded.

"Can you help her?" Trip turned back to Grix. "At least get her, I don't know. Stable enough, I guess is the word I'm looking for. Stable enough for the trip home, to Earth?"

"How long until she leaves?" Grix asked.

"Eleven days."

"Then perhaps, yes," Grix nodded.

"Please start as soon as you can, Doctor," Trip urged. "Our ship is near completion. The moment it's ready, we're embarking, and you'll be with us."

"Yes, that's why I'm here," Grix nodded. "I'll go in and meet with her, now. I'll let you know her status in a few hours."

"Thank you, ma'am," Trip replied. "We'll be around. Anyone can find us for you."

"Thank you, Mister Tucker."

STE

"I don't like her," Neera said at once, as soon as the Betazed woman was out of hearing.

"I think you've made that clear, sweetheart," Trip agreed. Neera's hand tightened at the endearment.

"_You_ like her." It was almost an accusation.

"Neera, I just met the woman," Trip sighed in exasperation. "I don't know what to think about her, just yet."

"She is not unattractive," Neera insisted.

Trip chuckled, but said nothing.

"I am not jealous," Neera said with a snort.

"Not at all," Trip agreed, hiding a smirk as best he could.

"I hate you," Neera told him, but there was no heat in it.

"Why? Cause I can tell when you're lyin'?" Trip challenged, smiling all the while.

"Yes."

STE

"She's been severely traumatized," Grix reported seven hours later, at dinner. She had been forced to retire to her new quarters for a time to recover after her initial meeting with Kara.

"Her conditioning was severe, to say the least. The poor girl is almost an automaton. And she is still unsure if she is in danger, due to the, ah, violent nature in which her former owner was dispatched."

"Bastard got off easy," Neera muttered under her breath.

"She will need extensive counseling, when she reaches Earth, but yes, Mister Tucker, she will be able to make the trip, I believe, without any complications."

"Good," Trip nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."

"It was my pleasure," Grix smiled again. "Now, if you will excuse me, I need to retire. I'm afraid that between my shuttle ride, and meeting with your slave girl, I am in need of rest." She rose and departed.

"Well, that's one problem taken care of," Trip sat back. "Now, if nothing else goes wrong, we should be able. . . ." Red lights began flashing, along with a harsh klaxon.

"_All security to the engineering lab! All security to the engineering lab! Captain Tucker to Engineering lab! Crew emergency!_" The message kept repeating for three full cycles. Trip was on his feet, Neera beside him, running for engineering.

Skidding into the lab, Trip looked for the problem, and when he found it, all he could do for a second was stare.

Kov, who Trip would have sworn didn't have a violent bone in his body, was wild eyed. Standing in the middle of the bay, surrounded by four prone crewmen that Trip prayed were just knocked out, Kov looked like something out of a sci-fi novel.

Swinging an engine transom that had to weigh a quarter ton as if it were a baseball bat, Kov was attacking anyone who came too close.

"Trip?" Neera said, jarring him from his shock.

"Jesus, what's _wrong_ with him?" Trip asked. He'd never seen any Vulcan, let alone Kov, in such a state as this.

"Trip, we have to stop him," Neera said. "He'll destroy the lab, not to mention our people."

"I know," Trip nodded grimly. "Try not to hurt him," he ordered. "I can't. . .I don't understand what. . .I mean, it's _Kov_ for God's sake!"

Trip waved everyone else back as he and Neera advanced, and most gladly obliged. Few had ever seen an enraged Vulcan. After today, they would hope they never did so again.

"Kov, look at me, buddy," Trip said calmly, walking slowly toward one of only two Vulcans he had ever called 'friend'. "Kov, take it easy, okay?"

Kov's reply was an angry hiss, along with some kind of ancient sounding Vulcan that the translator couldn't follow.

"Could he be. . .could this be his _Ponn Far_?" Neera asked. "I've always been told that such behavior was common among those suffering from such a thing."

"I don't think Kov would allow himself to get like this," Trip replied softly. "He's too professional. No, this is something else." Trip jumped back suddenly as Kov tried to hit him with the transom rod. Solid titanium, the rod was used to lever engines around and into place for service. Being hit with one would hurt like hell. If it didn't kill you, of course.

"Ever body clear outta here!" Trip ordered. "Kron!" he yelled as the Klingon arrived. "Seal the area, and keep every body outside. Let us deal with this." Kron nodded, and started evacuating the lab. Trip kept his eyes on Kov, who was starting to move, slowly, toward Trip.

"Trip, be careful," Neera ordered, moving to flank Kov on the Vulcan's right, trying to force him to divide his attention. Kov stopped, eyeing her, then back to Trip.

"Kov, buddy, let me help you," Trip called. Kov's head cocked to one side, studying Trip with violence laden eyes.

"This is gonna suck so bad," Trip sighed, then leaped across the distance between them, managing to grab the transom and hang on.

Kov roared in rage, trying to dislodge the human from his weapon. His failure to do so only seemed to enrage him further.

"Help me get him on the ground!" Trip yelled, and Neera, already moving to help, simply swept Kov's legs from under him. Kov fell backward, with Trip managing to follow him down, and land atop the Vulcan.

Trip had always heard that Vulcans were strong, and had seen it for himself on more than one occasion, but this was ridiculous.

"Kov, what the hell is wrong with you?" he managed to ask through gritted teeth. Trip knew, now, that he could disable Kov, but the man was his friend, and Trip didn't want to hurt him.

With Kov on the ground, Neera landed on his legs, trying to help contain him. Between them, they could probably keep Kov on the deck without injuring him.

Probably.

Julio Givens rushed into the room just then, carrying a hypospray. Neera caught a glimpse of Delana Grix near the hatch, watching pensively.

"Hold his head, Trip!" Julio ordered, sliding to his knees. As soon as he was close enough, Julio's hand snapped out, forcing the hypo to Kov's neck and activating it. Kov roared again in rage, but Trip, much to his surprise, was able to hold the Vulcan down even as he screamed in rage.

"Hit him again!" Neera yelled, but Julio hesitated, looking at Grix. The doctor nodded, though clearly hesitant. Julio repeated the move, this time on the other side of Kov's neck.

Thirty seconds later, Kov seemed to be weakening, but there was no sign that his sanity was returning.

"Again!" Grix called from across the room. "Half, this time!" she informed Julio. The electronics expert adjusted the spray, and hit Kov with it one more time. The Vulcan thrashed on the floor for a few more seconds in ineffectual rage, before slowing, and eventually stopping his violent attempts to free himself, or to cause damage to his tormentors.

Then, with one last guttural roar of pure, unadulterated rage, Kov finally collapsed into unconsciousness.

"Bring him, quickly!" Grix ordered. For the first time, Trip noted that the Betazoid woman was wearing. . .well. . .almost nothing. The sheer gown flung about her hid almost none of her magnificent body. With the danger past, several of the crewmen were also starting to notice.

"Bring him to medical," she ordered, and Trip managed to nod, as he took hold of Kov's body, lifting his unconscious friend from the deck with an ease that still caught him by surprise.

"Julio, get with Kron, see if you can find out what the hell happened here," Trip ordered.

"On it, bossman," Julio promised.

"Neera, with me," he ordered.

"Oh, that was going to happen anyway," she almost growled, forcing Trip to sigh.

Apparently his lover had seen Grix' state of undress as well. He pushed the thought from his mind, however, looking at the now peaceful face of one of his closest non-human friends. One of the few, the _very_ few, Vulcan's who had managed to win his respect, let alone his friendship.

What had happened to Kov, and why?

He reached the medical bay, and walked inside, carrying Kov to the imaging chamber at Grix's orders. Once there, Grix and two medics worked to secure Kov to the gurney, then she activated the scanner, Kov sliding inside the imaging chamber. Grix, he noted, had donned a long lab coat over her flimsy nightgown.

"Does anyone know what caused this?" she asked, studying the equipment in front of her. She was all business at the moment, and Trip's respect for her grew a notch.

"I've got people looking into it," he assured her. He turned to Neera and whispered to her urgently. Neera nodded in agreement, and left the room.

"She's very protective of you," Grix commented. "You have a strong relationship, Mister Tucker."

"We do," Trip nodded.

"There is a tendril of some kind between you," she went on, still focused on whatever the scan was telling her. "More than physical or emotional, I mean," she added. "It's very difficult to quant. . . ."

"Doctor, with all due respect, my relationship with Neera is absolutely none of your concern," Trip said calmly, his voice firm, but not unkind. "I'd prefer you leave it that way. And you have more important matters to deal with, right now," he motioned to the scanner.

"I wasn't trying to pry," Grix wasn't apologetic, but did seem to understand. "She has nothing to worry about from me."

"She knows that," Trip replied, and this time, finally, Grix looked up at him.

"Go ahead," Trip told her. "Take your look, and be done with it. But," he cautioned, "I warn you, you won't like what you see, Doctor." His voice was flat and dark.

"There is no need for me to invade your privacy to see that you are sincere, Captain. You love her."

"I do," Trip nodded firmly.

"She returns your affections, you know," Grix couldn't help but grin.

"I know," Trip sounded a little less tense now.

"I wish you both happiness, Captain," Grix told him, returning to the scan. "I'm a hopeless flirt, Captain Tucker, and I know that. We Betazed, we. . .we live life to the fullest, Captain. I do not mean to give offense to her, or you, when I do so. Please understand that, and I will attempt to. . .adapt."

"There's no need for that," Neera's voice broke the quiet. Trip didn't move, other than to reach behind him, offering him her hand. "Do not attempt to change who you are, Doctor. There is no need. And," she grinned, "he _is_ cute."

"He is at that," Grix sighed. The way the two women were talking was making Trip feel. . . .

""Okay, the scan is complete," Grix announced, moving to the image along the wall. She studied it quietly for some time, the expression on her face changing at least three times.

"I do not. . .I. . .," she tried, then shook herself, and tried again.

"For some reason, his neural pathways are. . .distended. Wrong, somehow. I do not know what could cause that, other than perhaps. . ." she broke off, looking at them.

"I'm sorry. I was about to reveal something very personal to a Vulcan," she admitted, blushing slightly. There was only one thing Trip was aware of that might possibly make this irrepressible woman blush.

"His _Pon Farr_?" Trip asked softly.

"How do you. . . ."

"Kov is my friend, Delana," Trip used her first name. "But I can't believe he would have allowed his_ Pon Farr _to hit him here, of all places. From what little I understand, Kov would have had at least some warning."

"It isn't _Pon Farr_," Grix shook her head. "I almost wish it was, since that, at least, is treatable. No, this is something else. Something I don't understand."

"Do you. . .will he be all right?" Trip asked, unsure he wanted the answer.

"I don't know," Grix admitted. "The damage to some of his neural pathways is. . .well, it's strange. Once I've determined what caused this, I may have a better answer for you."

"We may can help with that," Julio's voice made them all turn. He and Kron stood at the door, a grim look on each face. "But you ain't gonna like it, brother," Julio added.

"Indeed," Kron intoned.

"Well, what is it?" Trip asked.

"Better if you just. . .watch the vid," Julio gave him the PADD he was holding. "If you don't catch it, I'll show you." Trip took the PADD with a growl, and moved to where he, Neera and Delana could all see it. Hitting play, they watched the episode unfold.

The vid played at high speed, almost a skip frame. Trip noticed a large crate being deposited in the engineering lab, being signed for by Kov. The Vulcan opened the crate, then paused to take a look at the PADD that had accompanied the shipment. Trip watched as Kov then dug into the crate, removing a lump of the material therein, and taking it to his workstation, presumably to analyze it. Trip paused the playback, eyes closing as a memory came rushing back to him.

"Was that Trellium?" he asked softly. Both nodded. Trip ran a hand down his face, then resumed playback.

Kov spent the next several hours running tests on the material. Trip's engineering mind set recognized that one of the things Kov was doing was testing the hull polarization process against the new substance the hull was to be coated with.

"Look," Delana drew his attention back to the screen. Trip saw Kov stumble slightly, then shake his head and continue working. A few minutes later, Kov slowed, then stopped his work altogether. Trip paused the video playback again, checking the time stamp.

"Twelve hours," he murmured.

"Vulcan's require much less sleep than some other humanoid species," Delana pointed out. "Including Humans, and Betazoid."

"He's been continuously exposed to the Trellium for at least twelve hours," Trip's voice was strangled as he resumed playback.

Kov looked around him in obvious confusion, almost as if he didn't recognize his surroundings. His confusion faded, to be replaced with a look of. . .anger. Slowly, as if weighting each movement for effectiveness, Kov moved from his work station, along the deck. The first crewman who passed him never realized Kov was there, and for some reason, the Vulcan allowed him to pass.

The second was not so lucky.

Trip finally shut the PADD off, resisting the urge to hurl it against the wall.

"This is my fault," he almost growled.

"How do you figure?" Neera asked.

"Few days back, week, maybe, I had a thought about the effects Trellium might have on people who handled it, or worked near it over time. Since I ain't familiar with it, I decided to ask someone who was. Tragon for sure, and maybe look around somewhere's else."

"But I forgot," he said softly. "I got so busy, I forgot. Slipped my mind, and I never thought about it again. Now, Kov's payin' the price for that." He looked at Julio and Kron.

"Any sign this stuff is affectin' anyone else?"

"None," both answered in unison. "First thing we checked," Julio added. "Apparently, no one else on the station even noticed."

"So perhaps it's just the Vulcan?" Neera asked.

"I promise, I'll find out," Delana Grix placed a hand gently on Trip's arm, wincing at the emotions flowing from him.

"Stop," Neera ordered, and Delana looked surprised.

"Not for me," Neera told her softly. "For you. Don't look in. . . ." but she was too late. Delana's arm recoiled as her face contorted into a mask of fear and revulsion.

"Too late," Julio sighed, shaking his head. "C'mon, Kron. Let's finish up our investigation so we can re-open the lab. I think the good doctor is going to need a moment." The two departed, leaving the med bay to Trip, Neera, and Grix, along with a still unconscious Kov.

Grix was trying to regain her composure, but it was a struggle to say the least.

"Who. . ._what_, are you people?" Grix almost whispered her question.

"We're different," Neera answered for them both. "That's all, just . . . different."

"No, you're more than that," Grix shook her head. "Captain, how did you. . .I. . .your race simply does_ not _possess the raw power to. . .to. . . ."

"To decapitate an Orion with'is bare hands?" Trip answered sadly. "No, not usually. Not. . .normally."

"Perhaps you should sit down, Doctor," Neera offered her a chair, which Delana took. She covered her face with her hands for a moment, trying to erase the images that her mind had ripped from Trip's memory.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," Trip apologized. "You shouldn'a had to see 'at."

"No one should have to see it," Grix spoke, then looked up. "Including you, Captain. Either of you," she added with a look to Neera.

"Pays ya money, ya takes ya chances," Trip shrugged, then straightened. "I'll inform the boss that you won't be able to go with us, after all, Doctor. I'm sure that we'll be the poorer for it." With that he started for the door.

"Wait!" Delana's voice stopped him. "I never said I wouldn't or couldn't go!"

"The look on your face says it for you, Doctor," Trip smiled sadly. "I don't blame you," he added. "I wouldn't want to ship out with a monster like me, neither. Please, though, stay for a few days and see can you help Kov."

"Don't make the mistake of trying to read something into my expression that isn't there," Grix rose, her face firm. "I told you, we're empaths. I wasn't. . .I was caught by surprise, that's all. I don't usually engage in casual contact, because of that. Normally I'd wear gloves, since that seems to lessen what I can feel from others. But I was working on treating Kov, and ignored the need for them."

"But you know, now," Trip said. "And you ain't likely to forget it, either."

"No, but I can avoid that happening again," she removed a pair of leather gloves from her lab coat pocket, and slipped them on. "There will be no need to inform the 'boss' of anything, either," she said firmly. "You need me. All of you. I _am_ going."

Trip didn't respond, but Neera smiled at the suddenly fierce little Betazoid woman. For the first time, she thought she was going to like her being aboard.

"Thank you, Doctor," Trip nodded. "I'll. . .I'll keep my distance. I. . .Neera, will you remain here, for now, in case Kov ain't in the mood to cooperate if he wakes up? I got some work to do.

"Of course, Trip," Neera smiled. Without another word Trip left the room, walking morosely.

"He blames himself for everything," Neera sighed softly. She turned to Delana. "I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything to the others about what you might have seen. Many of the station's crew already know what he did, but. . .knowing it, and _seeing_ it, are two different things."

"I hate Orions," Delana's harsh tone surprised Neera. "Other than Vulcans, Orions prize Betazoid women the most, apparently."

"Well, if you're any kind of example, the women of your race are rather attractive," Neera reminded her.

"Oh, it's not our looks that fascinate them, though I'm sure they help," Grix almost growled. "It's our. . .other abilities."

"Ah," Neera suddenly understood. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Delana waved it off. "I just wanted you to know that. . .well, you can tell Captain Tucker that I have no problem with him simply tearing the head from _every_ Orion in the galaxy."

"Funny you should say that. . . ."


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER TWELVE

"It was definitely the Trellium," Delana informed them the next morning. "There are still traces of it in his system. He's heavily sedated and I'll keep him that way until the substance is clear of his system."

"He gonna be okay?" Trip asked.

"He will," Grix nodded, "but. . .Captain. . ."

"Call me Trip, Delana," he smiled. "You're part of my senior staff, after all." The woman gifted him with a dazzling smile.

"Thank you, Trip. As I was saying. . .well, there's just no easy way to say this. He won't be going into the Expanse with us."

"I figured as much," Trip nodded. "We'll need to take some extra precautions to make sure that Trellium doesn't affect any other races that way."

"I'm already working on that" Delana nodded. "I'm also working on a way to neutralize the effects of the compound on Vulcans."

"Can you do that?" Neera asked.

"I don't honestly know, just yet," Delana admitted. "I've only just started my experiments. It will take some time to see if it's possible, but I have no idea how much. In the meanwhile, I've had to resort to, well, extra-ordinary means to assist Kov."

"Such as?" Neera inquired.

"I. . .," Delana stopped, looking at them. She sighed, leaning forward to place her elbows on the table, her hands creating a cradle for her chin.

"I told you that my people are empathic, even telepathic." Both nodded. "Well, so are Vulcans," she explained. "I can't initiate a mind meld, a process that some Vulcan healers use to assist in healing their patients. But I. . .I can touch their minds. Physically, even, using my own abilities."

"I performed such a procedure this morning," she told them flatly. "I. . .Kov's neural pathways were damaged. Not severely, since he wasn't exposed to the substance for a long period, but his contact was physical, and sustained, for some time."

"I have to ask that you keep this completely between us," she said, breaking off her report for a moment. "If others knew I, _we_, could do this, no one would ever trust my people."

"Seems you mighta learned somthin' similar 'bout me, last night," Trip shrugged easily. "Guess this'll just mean the three of us are stuck with each other," he grinned. Delana felt her breath catch at that smile, and she wondered if Neera was aware of how fortunate she was to have this extraordinary man's devotion. She shook herself mentally, returning to the point.

"I touched his mind this morning," she continued. "And I used that contact to repair the damage to his neural pathways. I. . .he might have recovered, eventually, without my assistance, but, well, it was too much to leave to simple chance."

"Were you successful?" Neera asked.

"Yes," was the firm reply. "Kov will need some time to recover, but, yes, he will be fine."

"I can't imagine how hard that was for you to do," Trip said, his voice awed.

"It can be taxing," Delana nodded. "But I recover from such things quickly."

"When he's awake, call me," Trip told her. "He deserves to hear it from me. Neera, I want you to find Julio, and have him destroy every recording of what happened in that lab, save one, which I want restricted to him, and the three of us, and I guess Kron. I never want Kov to have to see what happened."

"Meanwhile, I guess I need to get more involved in the engineering aspect of things," he sighed. "And find me another chief engineer."

STE

"Sir?" Trip looked up from the PADD he was studying, to see a young Andorian woman standing before him. At least he assumed she was young. He didn't really know how to tell.

"Yes?" he smiled.

"I was wondering about Kov," the girl said softly, making sure no one else could hear. "Is he. . .is he all right?" she asked.

"He will be, in time," Trip assured her. "Might take a week or three, but Doctor Grix assures me that he'll make a full recovery."

"Thank you, sir," the woman seemed to relax. "I'll. . .I'll get back to work, now."

"Wait," Trip stopped her. "What's your name?"

"Tala, sir," she replied. "Tala Thy'lek."

"Thy'lek," Trip mused aloud. "Now why does that ring. . .hey, you any relation to Thy'lek Shran?" he asked, and the woman's eyes widened.

"Yo. . .you know him?" she asked, looking both surprised and afraid at the same time.

"I do," Trip smiled. "Fine fella, when he ain't shootin' at ya," he chuckled.

"I am. . .he is the brother of my second mother, sir," Tala nodded. "I have not seen him in some time, however."

"Well, I ain't run into him lately, myself," Trip told her. "So how did you wind up out here, anyway? Surprised the Imperial Guard didn't snap you up for one of their ships. According to Kov's notes," he indicated the PADD he'd been reading, "he was plannin' on leavin' you in charge when we shipped out."

"Yes, sir," Tala nodded. "I have been the primary engineer on the cohesion team for the warp engines, as well as Kov's assistant with design and construction."

"Enjoy it?" Trip asked, his mind working.

"Yes, sir, I have," the woman smiled. "It's a marvelous feat of design, sir."

"Thanks," Trip smiled again. Tala looked at him, then flushed a deep, dark blue.

"I. . .I apologize, sir," she said softly. "I thought Kov had. . . ."

"Kov has done most of the work, Tala," Trip assured her. "The idea was mine, as were the original plans. Everything else was Kov for the most part, with me helpin' time to time."

"It is a remarkable feat, sir," she repeated.

"You never did answer my question, Tala," Trip reminded her. "Why are you out here, instead of home, or aboard a Andorian ship." She flushed even deeper, if that were possible.

"My people are, for the most part, a warrior culture, sir," she answered slowly. "Warrior first, everything else second. I did not want that for myself. I am an engineer, sir. That is where my heart calls me, and I am most comfortable with the tools in my hands, and the problem in front of me. My less than. . .enthusiastic, embrace of the more war-like attitude was deemed a disqualifying factor. Sir," she added.

"I see," Trip nodded, still reviewing Kov's notes. "Well, sometimes fightin' is necessary, no matter how much we wish it wasn't," he told her. "Even for an engineer."

"I have no problem defending myself, sir," Tala replied, her voice a bit more firm. "I simply. . .I lack the thirst for blood that so many of my kinsman, my people, so often revel in. When needed, I can and will do what is required to defend myself, my ship, or my crew."

_Spunky little thing_, Trip thought, looking her over again. _Kinda reminds me of Lizzy_.

"Tala, Kov was going to be my chief engineer. Did you know that?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded. "It was because of that, as he would not be here, that he began to increase my responsibilities, and my work load. He told me he was preparing me to take his place. With your consent, I mean," she looked down, embarrassed that she had omitted that.

"What do you think about the ship, Tala?" Trip asked. "Reckon the job of Chief Engineer'll be a challenge, at least," he said. "Can't imagine why anyone would want it, to be honest. And I'm an engineer myself," he chuckled.

"It will not be so difficult, sir," Tala surprised him. "The chief engineer's station was designed to be able to command and control all four engines from one terminal. Crewmen must do the actual work, of course, but all decisions can be made from what Kov called the 'engineer's table'."

"I remember," Trip nodded. "But how hard do you expect it to be to for a Chief to oversee all four engines," he pressed.

"Technically, each engine has it's own Chief," Tala reminded him. "They will deal with the normal issues involved with keeping the ship in space. The Chief's job is to make sure they are doing their jobs, sir. And from the station, he can monitor every system on the ship."

"Sounds like you've been studying," Trip smiled.

"Well, sir, there is another ship under construction, and two more planned, I'm told. I hope to be chosen to crew one of them."

"Not interested in the first ship?" Trip asked.

"No point, sir," Tala shrugged. "The jobs are taken, and with Kov leaving, someone has to stay behind."

"Would you have taken if you could?" Trip asked, seeming disinterested, but actually listening intently.

"Of course, sir!" she nodded. "It's. . .well, it's the greatest thing I've seen, or even heard of. Serving on that ship will be an honor long remembered. Even sung of, if the rumors are true."

"What rumors?" Trip asked, careful not to look at her.

"That the ship will go in harms' way in a strange nebula, sir," Tala replied. "To fight a foe none have ever seen."

"Kind of exciting, sounds like, doesn't it?"

"It is an honorable way to serve, sir," Tala was subdued.

"I thought you weren't interested in war, Tala," Trip kidded her.

"I am always interested in protecting my people, sir," Tala surprised him. "If they have attacked Earth, then why not Andoria? No one is safe from such a weapon, so long as it exists."

Trip looked at her for a long minute, reflecting on everything he'd heard her say. Tala became acutely aware of his attention, and blushed once more.

"You've convinced me," Trip told her finally. "Start training someone else to take your place, Tala. When we leave, you'll be my Chief Engineer."

"S. . .sir?" Tala squeaked. He could have told her he was her _real_ father, and not surprised her more.

"Well, you wanted to go, you said," Trip told her, eyes twinkling. "And Kov can't go. Not this time. So I don't have a chief engineer. Think you can handle it? I think you can, but I have been wrong before."

"No, sir! I. . .mean, yes, sir, I can handle it!" she braced to attention.

"As you were, then, and start packing. We'll be leaving soon."

"Yes, sir!" the enthusiastic young woman almost yelled. Trip left her, then, smiling on the way out.

This ought to be something to see, he decided. His com beeped just then.

"Tucker."

"_Kov is awake, and asking to see you, Trip_," Neera's voice told him.

STE

"Kov, you look horrible," Trip smiled as he made his way to the Vulcan's bed side. "How you feel, buddy?"

"Horrible," Kov admitted, then laughed. "I don't even know what happened. Why am I here?"

"Kov, there's been a. . .problem," Trip began. When he was finished, Kov looked as if he were going to be physically ill. Trip placed a hand on Kov's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, my friend," Trip said sincerely. "This has been my fault, all of it. I should have checked on what, if any, affect the Trellium would be. If I had, we would never have used th. . . ." Kov's hand came up, stopping Trip.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snorted. "If even half of what Tragon told me is true, then you'll need all the help you can get. Besides, I'm the only Vulcan on the entire station, let alone the ship. The needs of the many, Trip," he said gently. "The needs of the many."

"I was really countin' on you to be there, Kov."

"Well, that's not going to happen, Trip," Kov shrugged.

"I. . Kov, I hate this, but. . .I'm going to need you to suggest a replacement. I can't go into the Expanse without a Chief Engineer. As you said before, I won't have time to run down there every time something happens."

"Tala," Kov said at once. "She's an absolutely brilliant engineer. I was going to . . . what's so humorous?" he demanded as Trip started laughing.

"I already picked her," Trip told him. "Ah, Kov, great minds! You and I were brothers in a passed life, that's all there is to it."

"Then why ask me?" Kov demanded, a little miffed.

"Because if you had chosen someone else, I'd have replaced her as ChiefEng, but probably left her on the ship to learn."

"Oh," Kov began to see the point. "Well, she's the best choice. That I can promise."

"That's all the word I need, right there," Trip assured him, and Kov flushed at the praise.

"I wish it were me," Kov said quietly. "I feel guilty, Trip. I feel as if I have let you down."

"You can't mean that, Kov," Trip scolded lightly. "Why, you did almost all the work, anyway, not me. And," Trip pointed out, "I'll admit to feeling a lot better about the newer ships, with you still here to keep an eye on things." Kov thought about that before speaking again.

"That might just be the finest compliment I've ever had," the young Vulcan admitted. "Thank you, my friend."

"Just make sure that everything keeps on schedule, okay?" Trip asked.

"I promise you that, sir," Kov nodded.

"Time for you to rest some, Kov."

STE

Jon stood in front of Forrest's desk, outwardly calm, but almost euphoric inside.

"Sit down, Jon," Forrest ordered. "This is going to take a while." Jon sat.

"With _Columbia_ out of dock, and more and more frigates being returned from their upgrades, there's been a push on to send someone to investigate the Xindi."

"Yes, sir," Jon kept himself in check.

"You already know it will be you and the _Enterprise_ who go," the admiral told him. "I wish we had a fleet to send out there, and root them out, but. . .we don't. If we sent you any of the frigates, they'd just slow you down, and not knowing what capabilities these Xindi might have, they might not even survive. Your ship, once her upgrades are finished, will at least be much faster than anything else we have currently, outside _Columbia_." Jon nodded.

"You'll get a formal intel briefing before you launch, but it's mostly a formality since most of what we know came from Reed. We do have some new information, and even some speculation about the barrier around the Expanse, but. . .pretty much, Jon, you're just going to have to see when you get there."

"Yes, sir."

"Part of your upgrade will include a central tactical center, which will use up a good bit of your exploration sciences room. You'll also have a supply of com boosters to carry along, and deploy once you enter the Expanse. We already have ships laying boosters, along with a sensor net, along the Expanse border with our known space. I can't promise you how long they'll last, but it's something," Forrest shrugged helplessly.

"I argued against this, Jon," he admitted suddenly, and Jon realized for the first time how haggard Forrest looked. "I didn't argue against you, of course. You know you have my complete confidence. But, one ship, out there all alone, it's. . .it's almost suicidal. There are probably races inside that barrier that we've never heard of, and know nothing at all about. You'll probably meet some of them."

"Probably," Jon nodded. "I appreciate your confidence," Jon added, "and, for the first time, I realize what a strain you must have been under. And I apologize, Max, for making it harder on you. I just didn't think. I was mad, hurt. . . ." He trailed off.

"I know Jon," Forrest smiled. "And you didn't add to my worry any. I just mostly ignored you." Both men laughed.

"Just like normal, then," Jon replied. "I've already discussed the mission with my senior staff. They're all working independently of each other, developing a stores list for the mission. We'll compare them later, and then submit a detailed requisition. We aren't going into this blind, Admiral. Just . . . determined."

"Whatever you think you need, I'll see to it that you get it," Forrest nodded. "For now, let's go over your mission parameters, and then we'll head over to intel."

STE

Malcolm Reed stood outside the bookstore, thinking carefully about what he was about to do. _Taking_ intel from a source was one thing. Giving it back, well, that was something else again. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.

And once again, he determined that he was. Taking a deep breath, Malcolm stepped inside.

The was a different woman at the desk this time, and Reed took a minute to wonder how many really attractive women this guy had working for him.

"May I help you, sir?" the curvy redhead asked with a smile.

"I'd like to see him, please," Reed replied. "The name is Reed." The woman's face lost her smile, and she nodded.

"Please wait here, Commander," she ordered, and disappeared into the back. She'd been gone a few seconds before her address hit him.

"How in the bloody hell can they _know_ that?" he murmured.

"He will see you, Commander Reed," the woman returned. "His office. I believe you know the way."

"Thank you," Malcolm nodded, not allowing him disappointment to show. He had been looking forward to following the curvy girl to Janos' door.

_Ah, well, work before pleasure_.

He arrived at the door, and knocked twice.

"Come in, Malcolm," he heard, and opened the door, walking inside.

"Well, Commander, is this a social call?" Janos asked. "Wanted another look at the lamp, perhaps?"

"No, sir," Reed smiled. "Not that I wouldn't like to hear how you came by it."

"Another time, perhaps," Janos replied. "Please sit down. Tea?"

"No, sir, thank you," Reed shook his head, taking his seat. "I have some information for you, perhaps."

"Well, that is different," Janos smiled, sitting back. "Usually people come to me for that."

"The _Enterprise _is in space dock, currently undergoing a complete refit," Reed said.

"I'm aware of that," Janos nodded.

"Are you aware that, once the refit is done, our orders are to enter the Delphic Expanse, and hunt down the Xindi?"

Janos leaded forward again, his eyes narrowing.

"No, I am not. Please, go on."

"There's not much else at this point," Reed admitted. "I. . .I just thought you would want to know. Deserved to know," he added. "The crew at large have not been given that information, by the way. They are currently on leave."

"I see," Janos steepled his hands in front of him. "Are you going alone?"

"Yes, sir," Reed nodded. "There's no one to send with us, so, we're on our own."

"I see. Do you have a timetable for all this?"

"We're estimating three weeks, sir," Reed informed him. "That's based on the fact that we have absolute priority for any requests."

"Very well. Thank you, Malcolm. I will need to look into some things. Can you return here prior to your launch?"

"I can, sir," Reed promised, sure that Archer would endorse it.

"Then please do so. Perhaps by then I'll have more information for you. We'll keep our communications face to face except in emergencies. Before you depart, however, we'll set up a protocol for comms between us. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir," Reed didn't show the relief he felt at the offer.

"Very well, then," Janos leaned forward, indicating the meeting was coming to a close. "Are you very familiar with Miami, Malcolm?" he asked suddenly.

"No, sir. This is my second time here." Janos touched a com button.

"July, my dear, I'd like a favor, please. Commander Reed is unfamiliar with Miami, and is on leave. He'll be departing for deep space soon, and I'd like him to have a good time while he's here. Would you be a dear and see that he has every consideration?"

"Of course, m'Lord," was the immediate reply. Malcolm frowned slightly at that.

"July," he chided. "What have I told you about that?"

"Sorry, m. . . sir," the girl sounded contrite.

"Perhaps I'll let Commander Reed decide how you should be punished," Janos winked at a furiously blushing Reed.

"That _would_ be agreeable, _My Lord_," came the saucy reply. "I will be waiting."

"Well, Malcolm, you seem to have quite a night ahead of you," Janos smiled.

"Sir, I don't. . . ."

"Malcolm, July is the entirely _delightful_ morsel you spoke to on the way in here," Janos said. "She will not do anything she doesn't wish to, and I'm afraid if anyone tried to force her, well . . . let's just say it would end badly, and not for her."

"You, young man, are about to depart for destinations unknown, and will be gone for some time. If you aren't capable of deciphering what's been offered to you, then perhaps you are in the wrong line of work. I trust you understand what I'm saying, Malcolm?" Despite himself, Reed had to grin.

"I see why Trip works for you, now," he nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"No, thank you, my boy. Please, enjoy Miami. Far too much to see and do in one night. Or three, if you take my meaning. Now, off with you. I have work to do." Reed nodded, standing.

"Goodbye, sir."

"Good-bye, Malcolm."

STE

Time seems to fly by when you're in a hurry. This was an observation that Trip had made more than once. For months, they had been working around the clock to ready the first of the new ships.

Suddenly, there she was. Ready.

"She needs a name," Neera said softly.

"Considering where we're going, what we're aimin' to do, there's only one real choice for the name, I guess."

"What's that?"

"_Acheron_. The River of Woe. And woe indeed, to all who cross us." Beside him, Neera smiled.

"Janos will love that."

STE

Trip stood on the bridge of the _Acheron_, watching as crewmen made last minute changes and adjustments. Finally, he called for quiet, and the noise level dropped.

"Mister Givens, ship wide," he ordered.

"Aye, Captain," a smiling Givens punched up ship wide.

"Attention all hands, this is the Captain," Trip stated. "We're ready. We've already lost a great deal of time. We know that this is just the first of many duties ahead of us. The first challenge, the first war. It will not be our last."

"But that's for another time," he went on. "For today, right here, right now, there is only the Xindi. We're going into the Delphic Expanse, and when we come back out, we'll leave a trail of dead Xindi behind us. When we're finished, there won't _be_ a Xindi race."

"All of you are the best at what you do. I couldn't be prouder of you, any of you, than I am right now, at this moment. All hands, stand by to disengage docking."

"Prepared to uncouple, Captain," helmsman Jerry Trail, a Boomer, announced.

"Then make it so, Mister Trail," Trip nodded.

Trip resisted the urge to adjust his uniform. There wouldn't be any jump suits on _Acheron_. Everyone wore armored uniforms, and would be armed at all times. If this were a Starfleet vessel, the Admiralty would be peeing it's pants over that.

_If we were Starfleet, we'd still be doin' nothin_', Trip snorted mentally.

"Tucker to Engineering."

"_Engineering, Aye_," Tala responded.

"Light'em up, Tala," Trip ordered.

"_Consider them lit, sir_." Trip could hear the smile on the young Andorian woman's face. Then he felt the massive impulse engines of the _Acheron_ send a rumble through the deck. They made the ship seem like it was straining to get loose.

"Mister Trail, take us out, one quarter impulse, steady on."

"Aye, Captain. One quarter impulse, steady helm."

_Acheron_ began to move under her own power, gently easing her way from the docks.

The Hunt had begun.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Say what?"

"You heard me perfectly clear, Charles," Janos replied with a stern eyebrow. "The _Enterprise_ will be going in search of the Xindi. Perhaps hoping for a diplomatic solution."

"I don't _want_ a diplomatic solution," Trip all but growled.

"I know, son," Janos said kindly. "And we don't work for Starfleet, or even Earth, when it get's right down to it. I have seen nothing, of yet, that convinces me Archer has a hope in Hades of carrying this off."

"You have a choice to make, Charles," Janos continued. "You can strike out on your own, or you can shadow the _Enterprise_. Protect her. I will not presume to tell you which way to go. So long as you prevent any other attacks upon Earth, I really don't care if the Xindi continue to exist or not, though you know I share your sentiment," he added.

"I'll think it over," Trip promised. "We'll figure something out."

"I'm sure you will," Janos was confident. "Give Neera my love, and Godspeed, Charles."

"You don't love me?" Trip asked with a grin. Janos was still scowling when the screen went blank.

"Nah, he loves me," Trip answered his own question. "Dammit, Jon," he then said aloud. The last thing he needed, or had expected, was that _Enterprise_ might head into the Expanse. Alone.

Trip sat back, considering his two options. Well, three, he amended. One, ignore the fact that _Enterprise_ was out here, and continue with his own plan. Which would leave a woefully underpowered, and unprepared, ship full of people he knew vulnerable.

Second, he could patrol the edge of the barrier, and announce himself to Archer, ordering him to stay the hell out of his way, and go home. That, Trip figured, would go over just about as well as a dog turd in the punch bowl at the family picnic.

Lastly, he could simply dog Jon's tracks, and watch over the _Enterprise_ and her crew. He sighed, rubbing his temples.

Decisions, decisions.

Trip put that away for a moment to consider his own current status. They were three days from the border of the Expanse, the shake-down well under way with no problems. He had forty-five ground troopers. He had planned for fifty at a minimum, but with twelve Klingons and fourteen sym-humans, if that was a word, he was very satisfied.

Tragon's men were accustomed to serving on ship as well as on the ground. He had watched the former special forces Denobulans practicing their maneuvers, and they were good. If Dru'hak and his Klingons were a broadsword, then Tragon and his troopers were a laser scalpel.

And then, there was Hunter.

Two days before they left dock, _Athena_ had returned with a last minute shipment of supplies and equipment for the _Acheron_. Along with a fourteen strong squad of Janos' personal storm troopers, led by one Jason Hunter.

Hunter was tall, rangy, built like an athlete, as were his men and women. Eight men and six women troopers bunked in the last available Marine crew quarters, while Hunter was billeted in Officer country. They all looked. . .hungry, Trip had thought at the time. Yeah, hungry. Eager.

The crew of the _Acheron_ was first rate all around. Trip had his pick of the cream of free lance spacers, and the quality of the crew showed in _Acheron_'s smoothly running systems and schedules. Trip rarely had to give any actual commands. He had, typically, spent most of their first two days out in engineering, mostly watching, occasionally tinkering, and always getting on Tala's nerves.

Finally the young woman had called Neera, who had come to remove Trip from the area. He remembered the day pretty well, since Neera had very definite ideas of how better to spend their time than tinkering in an engine room, or rooms, that were functioning flawlessly.

Trip's last 'suggestion' as he was dragged from the area was to implement damage control drills the next day. Tala had informed him, a bit tersely he'd thought, that DC drills were already scheduled, thank you, and have a nice day. Or night.

Implied in that was have them _away _from engineering. Trip shook his head, grinning. He'd never liked having other people in his own engine spaces after all.

He leaned forward and pressed the Com button.

"Julio, Neera, Kron, please report to the Captain's Ready Room," he ordered. He had a decision to make, and needed their input.

An hour later, Trip reached a reluctant decision, and called Janos to let him know what it was.

_STE_

_Enterprise_ left space dock with out fanfare, and under tight security. The crew were subdued, and had mixed feelings. Fear, trepidation, excitement, and the desire for revenge all rolled into one.

The officers were no different.

Archer sat in his ready room, an hour after launch, reviewing his final meeting with Max Forrest. His instructions were boiled down to a few set rules. Don't make the war worse, don't allow Earth to be attacked again, settle things diplomatically, if possible, and don't expect any help. From anywhere. Earth's so called allies were notably absent in her time of greatest need.

Archer and the _Enterprise_ were truly on their own.

STE

T'Pol was in her quarters, meditating. She reviewed her discussion with Soval, four days prior to launch.

"The High Command has ordered you home," Soval had told her in typically Vulcan flatness.

"Who will you assign to replace me?" she had inquired, thinking of what she needed to include in her briefing for the replacement.

"No one," Soval had informed her. "This is not a Vulcan matter. The Humans will have to deal with this issue in their own way. On their own."

"I do not understand," T'Pol had said. "What has happened?"

"Nothing has happened, and nothing will happen that involves Vulcan, or her people. That is all you need to know, for now."

"I disagree," T'Pol had replied calmly. "I must make an informed decision, and I cannot do that without the necessary facts."

"There is no decision for you to make," Soval told her. "You will follow your orders."

T'Pol remembered her confusion, and her. . .anger? Yes, she admitted, anger. There had been no reason she could see for Vulcan to abandon Earth, or it's people, and she had said so.

"The Humans have refused to listen to reason, refused our guidance," Soval had responded, clearly annoyed at her attitude. "The position they now find themselves in is the result of that."

"I do not believe that to be the case," she had politely accused Soval of lying. "This race, these Xindi, are unknown to Earth. _Enterprise_ has never encountered them, so there has been no opportunity to give offense, nor to wage war."

"We call the Humans allies, yet we abandon them at their time of greatest need. I find no logic in this, Soval."

"The decision has been made," Soval cast aside her concerns. "We will not aid them."

"My decision is my own to make," T'Pol informed him. "My resignation will be in your hands before I return to _Enterprise_."

"You will follow your orders," Soval's voice was close to showing emotion.

"I will no longer be under your orders," T'Pol allowed herself a weak moment of pride at the strength in her voice. Commander Tucker would be pleased, she thought.

"I will offer my services to Starfleet," T'Pol went on. "My own people have shown considerable reluctance to accept me since I was ordered to serve on _Enterprise_. I have no reason to believe that will change."

"The Humans, at least, do not ostracize their people for following orders. Perhaps they will extend me the same courtesy."

"You are endangering all that you have worked for, if you follow this irresponsible path, T'Pol," Soval told his god daughter.

"I have Pa'nar syndrome," T'Pol told him suddenly. "Vulcan healers refuse to treat me, so my time is limited. The goals which I had aspired to are no longer within my grasp. As such, I will spend my remaining time as I see fit, with the view of accomplishing all that I can before. . .while I am still able to function effectively."

"How did you contract Pa'Naar?" Soval asked, concern creeping into his voice.

"That is not your concern," T'Pol informed him. "It was. . .involuntary. And while Vulcan healers refused to treat me, Doctor Phlox has done all that he can for me, to the point of appealing to various medical colleagues within the Vulcan Medical Service, from his time on Vulcan with the IME. All have refused. The humans I serve with have all likewise tried to assist me, while my own people would allow me to die."

"Thus my path should seem somewhat less. . .irresponsible to you, Uncle."

Soval's inner turmoil was almost noticeable. It had been his order that had placed her on the Human ship. Logically, that meant that everything she had endured, she had done so following his orders.

"I will speak to a healer I know at Gol," he offered. "He will ensure your treatment and recovery, T'Pol kam."

"It has been too long, now," T'Pol had replied with indifference. "My path is before me, Uncle. Know that I hold you in great affection, despite our many differences. Live long, my _en'ahr'at_, and prosper."

T'Pol breathed slightly, opening her eyes to take in the flickering candle before her. If she was to die, it would be in a manner of her own choosing, following the guidance of her instincts, and her heart. The Humans on this ship had befriended her despite their less than fair treatment at the hands of her people.

She would not dishonor them.

STE

Malcolm Reed lay on his bunk, a piece of silk in his hands. Silk underwear to be precise. July Novichek was indeed a delightful morsel, as Janos had put it.

He reflected on his last visit to Janos, two days before _Enterprise_ was scheduled to depart. He had informed Captain Archer, who had immediately endorsed the idea. Reed had arrived at the bookstore, pleased to see a smiling July at the counter.

"Hello, Commander," she had smiled softly. "I don't suppose you are here to see me, are you?" she asked.

"I'd like nothing better luv," Reed had replied truthfully. "But I must see him, first."

"I will be holding you to that, Commander. He is actually expecting you."

"That does not surprise me," Reed sighed. "Thank you."

Janos had, in fact, been expecting him. The first thing he had done was offer him a chip.

"Latest information, Commander, and all that I have," Janos had said, almost apologetically. "I have something to tell you, Commander," Janos the leaned back. "And this is for you, and you alone. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir,' Reed was hesitant. "But if it's something that would help Earth, or the _Enterprise_, I can't promise you I won't share it. You may rather not want to trust me with it, under those circumstances." Janos actually smiled at that.

"You never cease to amaze me, Mister Reed. Charles indeed picks his friends well." Reed blushed slightly at the praise, but remained silent.

"What I'm about to tell you is so secret that I'd prefer you don't even dream about it, if you can. And, if the time comes, the need arises, of course you can use it. That's why I'm sharing it with you." He smiled.

"You do impress me, young Reed. I really, _really_ hope, that once you see that Starfleet is far too tame for you, that you'll consider joining me."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir," Reed chuckled.

"Charles is you friend, is he not?" Janos had said suddenly.

"My best friend, despite his sodding poor treatment of me, at times," Reed had nodded. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for him."

"I assure you the feeling is mutual," Janos smiled. "So, I'm going to tell you what your best friend has been doing these past few months. I'm placing great trust in you, Malcolm, for more than one reason. Charles, of course, is one of those reasons."

"The second is that I have great respect for you, and your abilities. Your loyalty, and determination, resolve, and because at heart, you aren't really a sailor, or a Starfleet officer. Good at them, perhaps, but that's not what you are. Not deep down, where you live."

"You, my boy, are a warrior, pure and simple. You work to hide it, and do quite well, but I've been a warrior much longer than you have been in the world. I know my own kind when I see it. That is the final, perhaps the main reason."

"Charles has been building himself a warship," Janos said calmly. "One that I financed. It is far superior to anything currently in space, at least among the races I know of. And there are three more currently under construction, with still more behind that."

Reed prided himself on his ability to project calm, and never show surprise, but this time. . .he failed.

"I'm not exactly what I appear to be, Malcolm," Janos admitted. "Perhaps, when you run into Charles, he might explain it to you. That's for him to decide. You see, he's no longer exactly what he seems to be, either. Again, that's for him to tell, if he desires."

"I have spent a great long time trying to prevent mankind from destroying itself. My track record, outside the Genetics fiasco, is actually pretty good."

"You were ali. . . ."

"I told you, Malcolm, not today," Janos reminded him. "Until the Xindi attack, I ignored matters in space, save for my own interests. Man has to make a living," he grinned. "I realize now, too late, that this was a mistake." He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Charles is my response to that mistake. There is no one I trust more to be out there, protecting this planet, protecting all of mankind, in fact, than Charles Tucker. I trust him so much, in fact, that I have expended a great deal of resources, people, and time on his behalf, and continue to do so."

"I can afford it, Malcolm," Janos smiled at Reed's look. "As I said, I'm not exactly what I appear to be."

"I, myself, have no love of space, as Charles does. I don't dislike it, really, it's just. . .for me, space is that final frontier, and I cannot find the desire to see beyond it. Earth is, and will always be, my home. I've sworn my life, my wealth, and the people who serve me, in it's protection."

"As I said, however, I ignored space. A mistake that cost me dearly, and one that I will not make again. Your friend Charles has become the hammer which I will use to beat the enemies of Humanity into dust, Commander. He will lead my modest fleet, and ensure that nothing like what happened with the Xindi can ever happen again."

"I. . .I don't know what to say, sir," Reed had managed to stammer.

"There's nothing for you _to_ say, Malcolm," Janos smiled. "But, you need to be aware of what's going on. I remind you, that this information is for you and only for you, until the time comes to use it." He extended another chip.

"This is how you contact Charles, when you need his help," Janos told him. "He told me, just before you got here in fact, that after discussing the situation with his staff, he's decided to put his desire for vengeance on hold, at least for now." He frowned, then.

"What I can't promise you is how long that will last," he admitted. "Charles has become something. . .more, I suppose, since you saw him last. He's no longer the smiling, laughing young man you knew him to be. He, like you, was born to be a warrior. He has fought that inclination his entire life, until the Xindi."

"Now, I'm afraid that his suppression of that nature, combined with his cold hatred for the Xindi, his need to protect others, and my. . .mismanagement, I suppose, have left him a very different man."

"Know this. If, or when, Archer pisses him off, I expect that Charles will simply move on the Xindi on his own, and destroy them root and branch. That was his original intention, at least. His mind is no longer so easy for me to know."

"I. . .how can he do that?" Reed asked "He's only got one ship."

"A ship he designed and constructed for one purpose," Janos agreed. "To destroy, to _erase_, the Xindi. Completely and without remorse. Charles, I'm afraid, is completely out of remorse, these days," he added sadly.

"And his plans do not end with the Xindi," Janos added. "There are other things that have attracted his attention. And I assure you, Malcolm, no matter what race it is, they do _no_t want his attention."

"Sir, with respect," Reed had answered, "how could you give him that ship, knowing what. . .how, he is, now?"

"Two reasons," Janos surprised him by smiling. "First, Charles Tucker is the son I never had. I know he has parents of his own, and I would never compare myself to them in anyway. But I care for the boy as if he were mine. And, I want him to have his vengeance. I want my own, but that's beside the point."

"Secondly, I don't really care about any race of beings who would make war on Man. Period. If they make the mistake of crossing him, or bringing themselves to his attention through an attack on Humanity, anywhere, or in any way, then he has my complete blessing to deal with them as he see's fit."

"And he does not see very fit, these days," Janos observed quietly. "So, if Captain Archer begins to look as if he's going to. . .annoy?. . .yes, annoy is an excellent word. If it seems that Archer is annoying Charles, then you might want to try and talk him out of it. For his sake."

"I like what I know of Archer, for the most part, but his inclination to be a bit narcissistic is bothersome, in a trivial way. He want's to be in on everything, know everything, and be a part of history. Understandable, and not a bad thing, so long as he tempers it with a bit of patience and. . .restraint. Especially where Charles is concerned."

"It's possible that I am wrong about this," Janos admitted, "but I don't think so. I believe that Archer's friendship with Charles will work in his favor, but a concerned word or two, here and there, might keep him from. . .hm, what word for this?" he pondered. "Presuming, I should think," he continued after a second's thought. "Yes, you might caution Archer about presuming too much where that friendship is concerned. I'm not sure it would be wise."

"I understand, sir," Reed nodded. His tone indicated he really did understand, Janos was happy to see.

"The next vessel will be completed soon," Janos informed him further. "It's mission will be to assist in protecting the Earth from further attack. They will, of course, not attempt to communicate with Starfleet. I share this with you only to help put your own mind at east. Earth will have help soon enough. I swear that to you."

Malcolm sat back, processing all this. He knew, for some reason, that he could trust this man before him. It didn't hurt that Trip trusted Janos, but there was something. . .more. Malcolm didn't understand it exactly, but his instincts in these matters was usually accurate.

"I'm glad to hear that, sir," Reed nodded. "Perhaps, one day, I might serve on one of those ships," he added, but would never know why.

"I'd like that very much, Malcolm Reed," Janos gave him a genuine, happy smile. "I would like that very much indeed. It would warm my heart to see you commanding one of my vessels in combat, or in peace." Reed managed not to start at that. He hadn't considered commanding one of them, just. . . .

"Now, unless I am mistaken, and that is rare indeed, there is a very attractive woman waiting downstairs to see you off," Janos ended. "Godspeed, Malcolm, and good hunting."

"Thank you, sir," Reed stood. "Farewell."

Reed shifted in his bunk slightly, remembering the send off with a smile. July was a remarkable woman, and every minute he'd spent with her had been special. She had been cautious to warn him not to read anything into their. . .liaison.

"It would never work out, love," she told him softly, her head resting on his chest after a particularly spirited bout of love making. "We are from different worlds, Malcolm, and that is all I can say. But. . .," she kissed him softly. "I shall ever remember you fondly."

He would remember her too. No, he would never see her again, but. . .he would never forget her, either.

Restless, now, Malcolm rose and dressed for the gym.

STE

Neera watched Trip carefully as he sat in his chair, brooding. _Like the kings of old_, she thought to herself.

Neera was old. Very old, in fact. But she had never had a man excite her, charm her, _claim_ her, the way Charles 'Trip' Tucker had, and sometimes she caught herself wondering how he had.

She didn't spend very long wondering, if she were honest. It was enough that she loved him, and he loved her. But because she loved him, she worried over him. His brooding wasn't new, as he'd been doing it since she met him. Well, met him the second time.

Her concern stemmed from the fact that his brooding was becoming worse. The decision to protect _Enterprise_ rather than head straight in to the Expanse had cost him, she knew. Now, she wondered if he was regretting it.

She rose and walked over to his chair.

"I think, my Lord, that Kron should take the bridge for a while," she whispered to him. "I would like for you and I to be alone for a while, and talk."

"Talk?" Trip smirked at her, his eyes twinkling slightly. "We 'talked' most of the night, darlin'."

She actually blushed at that, wondering again how he could make her do so. It wasn't like she a school girl, after all.

"I meant _really_ talk, you pervert," she almost giggled. Damn him and the effect he had on her.

"All right," he nodded. "Kron." He spoke louder.

"Sir?" the Klingon responded from his post as Tactical Officer.

"You have the bridge. Continue patrolling as we have been. I'll be in my Ready Room."

"Sir," Kron nodded, almost a short bow, actually, and Trip resisted the urge to snort. Such things were important to his Klingon friend. He needed them, and Trip wouldn't deprive him of them.

He got up from his chair and followed Neera to his ready room. Trip had allowed himself and Neera one concession as the ship was being built. His quarters, her's, the ready room, and one other cabin were connected by interior doors, allowing them a large living area.

He'd done that because he had begun to realize that the _Acheron_ was likely to be their home for some time. They would spend the next several years in space more than not. Command had some perks, he supposed.

Once they were inside, Trip relaxed and sat down on the sofa, where she joined him.

"You're brooding," Neera said without fanfare.

"'Spose I am," he nodded. "Sorry," he added.

"Stop apologizing for everything, Trip!" she scolded playfully. "It wasn't an accusation, just an observation. What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," was his one word answer. That was another thing that concerned her. Where the old Trip had been talkative, the new one. . .well, wasn't. Not really.

"If it were nothing, we wouldn't be here," she told him. "Trip, I hope that you see our relationship as something you want to last. To endure. I see it that way. I want us to be together until. . .well, we'll never really be old and grey looking, but. . . ." Trip actually chuckled at that.

"Yeah," he smiled. "And I do. I love you Neera. You know that. Doesn't mean I shouldn't say it more often, but I know you know it. And I don't really wanna do anything that you ain't part of."

"Then know that I am here to share, Trip," Neera said softly. "When something bothers you, I want to know it. I want to share the burden with you, and help you any way I can."

"Thanks," he replied. "I know ya do, and it means the world to me, sweetheart. I just. . .I'm. . .nothin' really wrong, I'm just. . .unhappy, I guess. I mean, I know that _Enterprise_ needs help, and there are a lot of people on that ship that are friends of mine. Some of'em close enough to be fam'ly," he added, frowning. "Now, I'll be just like I am now where _they're_ old and grey. Takes some gettin' used to, I guess," he shrugged.

"But the real thing is that I've basically relegated us to bein' a babysitter for them, 'stead o' doin' what I meant to do. I don't like it, and sometimes I catch myself second guessin' my own decision."

"I see," Neera nodded. "That's understandable, my love, but we are not bound by the decision. You can, at any time, order the ship deeper into the Expanse, and continue on our original mission."

"Nah, I can't, either," Trip sighed. "Janos told Malcolm we'd be around, close by, if _Enterprise_ got into trouble. If they do, then Mal'll call us. I can't be too far from where they are, since I already said I'd be close."

"Well, if we _are_ bound to the decision you've made, then it's time to stop worrying over it, love. The crew will start doing the same thing if they see you like that too often."

"And the one thing we have, darling Charles, is time. We aren't fore-going your revenge, my precious. Merely putting it off a bit."

"Guess I hadn't really looked at it that way," Trip admitted. "You're right, I reckon," he smiled at her, this time a real smile. "I sure am glad you came along. I can't imagine how I could get by without you."

"I'm sure you'd think of something," Neera snorted, grinning.

"Well, I suppose I could spend more time in the Med bay, if you weren't here," he jibed, and Neera's smile faded.

"You'll pay for that," she warned him in mock anger. "Suffer, actually, would be a better word."

"Well, if I'm sufferin', then I'd _have_ to go to Med Bay and see the dhmphhh. . . ." He was cut off as Neera's mouth slammed into his, forcing him down on the sofa.

In Med Bay, Delana Grix rubbed her left ear, wondering why it suddenly felt hot.

STE

"Sir, we're here," Travis said softly. Jon nodded, looking over the younger man's shoulder, looking at the undulating thermobaric cloud before them that stretched as far as the eye and their sensors could see in either direction. Nearly six weeks it had taken just to get here. That was a long time to dread the unknown.

_Well, we're here now_, he thought. _Time to go have a look inside_.

"Half impulse, Travis," Jon ordered, taking his chair. "We'll ease into it, and see what happens. Hoshi, ship wide, please."

"Ship wide sir," Hoshi nodded. "You're live mike sir."

"Attention all hands, this is the Captain," Archer said. "We're about to enter the Expanse. Prepare for a rough ride, make all equipment fast, and stand by for orders." He signaled for Hoshi to cut the transmission.

"Malcolm, let's go to tactical alert, at least until we see what happens."

"Aye, sir," Reed nodded in approval. He had been about to suggest that very thing.

"Let's go, Travis." The young helmsman increased speed to half impulse and started into the Expanse.

STE

"Captain to the bridge."

Trip had started on his way as soon as he heard 'Captain'.

"Status, Mister Kron," he asked as soon as he walked onto the bridge.

"I believe we have located _Enterprise_, sir," Kron informed him. "The signature matches very closely to what you had given us."

"Very well," Trip nodded, taking his chair. "Any reason to think they know we're here?" he asked.

"They have given no sign they've seen us," Kron replied.

"No Elint, either, sir," Givens reported. "Their sensors would play hell trying to pick us up anyway," he added. Trip nodded.

"Mister Trail, we'll stay back, but I don't want to lose them. If they need assistance, I want us there to give it. Understood?"

"Aye, sir," the helmsman nodded. "We'll be just another shadow, m'Lord." Trip rolled his eyes at that, and both Kron and Givens snorted lightly at his response.

"Shut up, both o' ya," he ordered, but his grin robbed the words of any sting. "Let's go. Tactical Two, Kron," he added.

"Aye, Captain," Kron was all business now.

"Still no com noise, sir," Givens advised. "_Enterprise_ is maintaining a steady course. I'd say she's around half-impulse, heading straight in."

"Very well," Trip nodded. "Maintain course and speed fo. . . ."

"Captain, I've got three ships approaching," Givens cut in. "They appear to be Klingon, sir."

"What?" Kron looked up. "What are they doing here?"

"More interested in knowin' what they aim to do now that they are here," Trip observed. "Any com. . . ."

"They're following _Enterprise_," Givens cut him off again.

"Follow'em," Trip ordered.

"Duras," Trip sighed. "Kron, you're like a brother to me, but some of your people just don't know when to give up."

"We imbibe it in our mother's milk, m'Lord," Kron replied. "And Duras' mother was very well endowed," he added drily, causing Trip to erupt in laughter.

"Sir, the Klingons are in attack formation now," Givens informed them, ignoring the by play. "There are in definitely in pursuit of _Enterprise_," he added.

"Well, we can't have that," Trip sighed. "Kron, any problems with the. . .situation?" he asked. Kron looked up at him.

"In no way, My Lord," Kron actually sounded hurt.

"You know what I meant," Trip said easily, and Kron's face relaxed.

"Thank you, m'Lord, but. . .there is no conflict for me. Sometimes one must remove the stain before the wood is made pure again." His voice was full of dignity. And pride.

"Then make ready. Weapons hot, shields up. Mister Givens, let's introduce ourselves. And I'd rather _Enterprise_ didn't know we're here, if we can avoid it."

"No problem, sir." In seconds, Trip was facing Duras on his own screen.

"What do you want, human, other than to be destroyed."

"Oh, I want what every man wants. Hot girl, hot car. . .oh, wait, I already got that. There was something though. . . ." Trip tapped his lip with one finger, striking the pose of a man in deep thought. Just as Duras was about to erupt, Trip snapped his finger.

"I remember now!" he sounded excited. "I want you and your friends the hell outta my space, and the fastest way you manage that will be too slow. You got, oh, let's be reasonable. . .ninety seconds 'fore I kill you all." His voice had gone cold as he spoke.

"What!" the Klingon roared. "I'll feast on your bones this very night, impudent Human!"

"Kron, kill one of'em," Trip ordered casually. "Not him though, not yet." Kron simply pressed a button on his console, looking straight at Duros as he did so.

"Bird of Prey destroyed, Captain," Givens reported. "No survivors," he added quietly.

"Now, what about it?" Trip demanded. "You goin', or stayin'? Clock's tickin', by the way," he added.

"You cowardly scum!" Duros almost screamed. "I'll. . . ." Trip made a motion to Givens to cut the feed.

"Finish'em Kron. We ain't got time for this." Kron nodded, and two minutes later there was nothing between _Acheron _and _Enterprise_ but an expanding debris field.

"Quarter impulse, make a run through to look for life boats," Trip ordered automatically. "Well done, Kron."

"Thank you, Captain." If the Klingon had a problem with what he'd just done, he hid it well."

"Call for you relief, Kron. We'll walk down to the boat bay together, just in case."

"Aye, sir," Kron nodded, and motioned for one of his people to take his place.

"Neera, keep us on course, and try to keep _Enterprise_ from seeing us."

"Yes, My Lord," Neera grinned.

As they made their way to the boat bay, Trip examined Kron from the corner of his eye.

"I'm sorry you had to do that, Kron," Trip said gently.

"Sir?" Kron looked surprise.

"You didn't sign up to shoot at your own people," Trip pointed out. "I'm sorry I had to ask it of you."

"As you once said to me, My Lord, never say anything like that to me again." Trip stopped, looking up at his Klingon tactical officer.

"I serve your House, now, My Lord," Kron told him forcefully. "You, and Lady Neera, _are_ my people. You never have to apologize for asking me to do my duty." He suddenly grinned.

"And I never liked him, anyway," he added. Trip gawked for a moment, like a fish out of water, then burst out laughing.

"You. . .you had me. . .me going, Kron!" Trip howled.

"I must keep you on your toes, My Lord," Kron said formally. "Lady Neera's orders."

"Well, I guess you know who gives the real orders around here after all, then," Trip was still laughing.

"Indeed. And, thank you."

"For what?" Trip asked.

"For bothering to care if I had. . .issues such as your feared."

"Kron, ever Captain oughta know things like that, and do'em," Trip shrugged.

"Perhaps they _should_, but not all _do_," Kron replied. "The fact that you do, has not gone unnoticed by the crew. Whatever loyalty they once held, anywhere, they are now loyal to you, and The Lady Grim. I understand you, sir, and was therefore not offended by your question of whether I could do my duty. But others may find it offensive. I suggest you not inquire, at least not like that, about future. . .issues."

"I didn't mean to be offensive," Trip nodded in agreement. "I just don't wanna ask someone to do something that'll give'em problems."

"Then do not ask," Kron suggested. "You are the Lord and Master of this ship, and all who serve aboard her. When you speak, your word will be heard, your orders carried out. Never doubt that. Never let anyone see or hear you doubt it, either."

"You are in command," Kron emphasized. "_Command_."

Trip considered that for a moment, then nodded.

"Guess I'm still tryin' to be good ole Trip Tucker," he sighed. "Thanks, Kron."

"That is what Tactical Officers are for, My Lord."

STE

"Captain, I believe that there have been ships damaged or destroyed in our wake," T'Pol intoned from her science post. "I cannot be sure at this distance, but I am reading an energy spike, as well as weapons signatures." She looked up, eye to eye with him.

"The weapon's signatures do not match any known to be on file," she added neutrally.

"Behind us, huh," Archer considered that. "Any idea on what kind of ships?"

"Impossible to say with certainty, but residual radiation does meet minimal matches for Klingon style reactors," T'Pol replied after consulting her station again.

"You think Duras tried to follow us?" he asked.

"Unknown," T'Pol replied. "Logic suggests, however, that they attempted to enter the Expanse, whatever their reasoning might have been."

"But they're gone now?" Archer requested.

"Destroyed," T'Pol confirmend.

"Well, I can't see how what they're doing is our business," Archer concluded. "Carry on Travis," he ordered. "Well done, T'Pol," he added. The science officer nodded, but remained quiet.

At his own station, Reed sighed slightly. He had seen the same thing on his sensor readout. But because he knew what he was looking for, he also saw something else. A large shadow, passing through what had been a trio of Klingon Birds of Prey.

_Thanks, mate_.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Three weeks in here, and we're no closer to finding the Xindi that when we first arrived," Archer noted in his log. "The stress is showing on the crew, and on the officers. This place is strange, and dangerous. These anomalies, they pass through the ship, and through anyone who happens to be in their way. The results are. . .ugly." He paused and slipped Porthos a piece of cheese.

"We've encountered a few races we've never heard of before, who have, at least for the most part, been friendly. Well, not un-friendly, which is not exactly the same thing. But when it comes to information, we're hitting a black hole. All we can do is continue our search. If nothing else, we may well eventually encounter a Xindi ship. That would be a start, at least."

Jon ended his recording, sighing in defeat. Three weeks had never seemed this long before, save when he was fighting to get _Enterprise_ out of space dock. He knew he was being unfair, expecting too much. Three weeks in a place they'd never been, looking for a race that was all but a ghost.

Suddenly, the thought hit. What if they _were_ chasing a ghost. Not a real spirit, of course, but something designed to force Starfleet to send out ships to track down the Xindi. Leaving Earth unprotected. If that were the case. . . .

For the first time, Jon was relieved that _Enterprise_ was alone. She was the only ship looking, and would remain so. That meant that Earth was safe, at least for now.

It also meant that _Enterprise_ was alone, isolated, and in the dark.

What if _that_ was what their enemy wanted?

STE

"Lieutenant Commander, may I have a word with you in private?" Reed looked up to see T'Pol standing in front of him in one of those bloody damned catsuit's of her's. Didn't she know. . . .he knew she didn't.

"Of course, Commander," he nodded. He followed T'Pol to the TAC center, enjoying the entire walk. She closed the door, and then looked right at Malcolm.

"You are hiding something," she said flatly.

_Oh, if you only knew_, the thought went through his head before he could register that she hadn't meant. . .that.

"I'm sorry?" he said, puzzled.

"Your body language at different times has betrayed you, Commander," T'Pol told him. "You know something that you are not sharing. I wish to know what it is."

"I'm not hiding anythin', Commander," Reed looked at her closely. _Except a raging hard on because of how you're stuffed into that _uniform, he added mentally. "What I am is concerned, worried, and not a little afraid. You may have noticed that several of us, most of us, are like that. Usually I can keep it. . .well, guarded, I guess. But not always. I'm sorry that my emotional reaction has offended you. I'll try to be more aware."

T'Pol's eyes never wavered, but he could see her considering.

"I suppose that is logical," she finally admitted. "Nor am I offended. It was not my intent to accuse you, Commander Reed. Merely to point out that it is illogical at this point to continue to hide information which may be helpful to us now."

"I've hid nothing Commander that can aide us in any way. Everything I have, intelligence wise, was handed over to Captain Archer as soon as I returned."

"Two days later," T'Pol noted.

"Yes," Reed nodded. "Sometimes you have to. . .mingle," he shrugged, wishing he was mingling with July right now.

"I am aware," T'Pol nodded her understanding. "Very well, Mister Reed. I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable."

"No more than usual, Commander," he said before he thought.

"You are uncomfortable working with me?" T'Pol almost expressed surprise.

"No, Commander T'Pol. I was thinking about something else." He explained, briefly, how she had entered the conversation the day he had saved Gardner's life.

"I see," T'Pol nodded. "The courtesy you and all the crew have shown me are the reason that I am here now, rather than home on Vulcan. Where it is warm," she added.

"We're glad to have you with us, T'Pol," Reed assured her. _That catsuit is a helluva morale booster, luv!_

"Thank you," T'Pol nodded. "I will allow you to resume your work, Mister Reed. I have wasted enough of your time, today."

"It wasn't a waste, Commander," Reed said truthfully. "In no other setting would I have revealed to you that I'm afraid. The same would go for any other male on this ship. Now, you know," he shrugged simply.

"Indeed."

She watched Reed return to his work. She had been certain he was concealing something. Apparently she had been mistaken.

She needed to meditate.

STE

_Damn that was close_, Reed thought as he moved back to his station. He had been prepared to offend the petite Vulcan, if necessary, to throw her off the true scent, but thankfully it hadn't been needed.

Not that he'd have been lying, he thought wryly. There wasn't a man on the ship that probably didn't fantasize about T'Pol in some way, himself included, if he was honest. But he had been able to convince her, he hoped, that is was simple fear that made him act. . .well, like whatever she had noticed. That made him frown.

What had she noticed? T'Pol was probably one of the most observant people he'd ever met, so there was no telling what she had noticed about him, or when. He couldn't be on guard constantly. He'd never get any work done.

He hoped she'd bought the 'afraid' argument. It wasn't all a lie, anyway. He was fearful of what they would encounter in the Expanse. But, unlike the others, he had the advantage of knowing that Trip was somewhere close by, with a ship that apparently could take on the entire Vulcan fleet, with Andoria thrown in for good measure, and prevail.

What he wouldn't give to get a closer look at it, too. Janos' comment about commanding one of them rang in his memory like a church bell.

Maybe, once this mission was completed, he'd take him up on that. Command of a Starfleet vessel was probably not going to happen. Not after his refusal to give the source of his intel to Forrest, Black, and Gardner. The promotion and commendation hadn't fooled him, even if that was their intent. He knew, once this was over, that he would be black-balled from further advancement, and perhaps given the boot altogether.

Having a back-up plan was a good feeling.

STE

"I am bored out of my skull," Trip complained to Neera. They were in his ready room, going over reports from the department heads. Most revealed no problems at all, and the few that did contained detailed plans for correcting any existing issues.

The crew rarely needed his input.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Neera stated, rising.

"What? Why?" Trip looked up at her.

"We have neglected your training since the ship launched," she informed him. "Now, with the others on board, it will be easier for you to catch up." She pulled him from his seat.

"Let's go. Hunter's unit is in the gym."

STE

"Welcome, sir," Hunter nodded. "Neera."

"Jason, the Captain's training is behind schedule, and due to certain events, no one really want's to train with him. He has gotten accustomed to training with me, so I thought to present him with a new challenge."

"Of course," Hunter nodded. "I promise we'll take good care of him. Won't hurt him a bit," he smiled.

"No one on this ship is concerned with _you_ hurting _him_," Neera warned, handing over a chip. "I strongly suggest you view this before you begin with contact drills. Meanwhile, I have work to do," she turned to go.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Trip called. "You just gonna leave me here, and go on back to. . .whatever?"

"Yes," Neera said over her shoulder. "_Do_ try not to 'tucker' yourself out too much. I have other plans for you today as well," she smirked as she exited the gym.

"Well, sh. . .damn," he corrected himself.

"Trina!" Hunter called, and a slim waif of a woman who looked about twenty walked over.

"Please begin the Captain on meditation drills," he ordered. "I'll be with you as soon as I can, sir," Hunter promised.

"Yeah, okay," Trip nodded, looking down at 'Trina'. "What'cha want me to do?"

"C'mon over here, sweetie," she smiled, her accent rivaling his own. "Lemme show ya how to get started."

"Hey, where you from?" he asked, pleased to hear a familiar accent.

"I'm from Alabama," she smiled. "You?"

"Florida Panhandle," Trip grinned.

"Ah, _Lower _Alabama," Trina teased. "The Redneck Riviera."

"That's me," Trip smiled.

"Well, c'mon then, and get settled in," she ordered, pointing to a mat on the floor. "Evah do any meditatin'?" she asked.

"I tried it once or twice with a Vulcan I used ta know," Trip nodded.

"Well, there's gotta be a story there," she grinned. "Vulcans don't normally share that kinda thing, hon. . .Captain."

"Well, she was an unusual Vulcan," Trip admitted. "XO on the _Enterprise_. Kind of a cultural challenge. I tried meditatin', she tried pecan pie."

"Sounds like a story, sure 'nough," Trina's grin widened. "First thing, at least for us, is to try and clear your mind as much as possible. You want to think about a white wall? That's what I use. A solid white wall. Now, close ya eyes, and let's start with that. . . ."

STE

Hunter watched the video three times, growing more concerned each time. The raw violence was one thing. He'd seen it before, even amongst 'newborns'.

The savagery he could overlook. He was pretty much the same way himself, in combat, and the Captain had been severely provoked.

But. . . . He hit the com, calling Neera.

"Yes?" her voice came back.

"How. . .how far advanced was he when this incident took place?" he asked without lead in.

"Less than three months," Neera replied at once. "Call it seventy days."

"This shouldn't be possible," he said bluntly.

"Yet it is," Neera sighed. "Now you know why I warned you," she added.

"Indeed," Hunter murmured. He'd once been British, in another life, a soldier in the 22nd Regiment, Her Majesty's Special Air Service. That time was long passed, now, but the soldier, the warrior, remained.

"I. . .I will need to contact Lord Janos about this, Neera," he finally said. "He must be made aware. . . ."

"He is already aware, Jason," Neera informed him. "He was made aware the same day it happened."

"What was his reaction?" Hunter asked.

"He asked Charles if he was able to continue, Charles assured him that he was, and Lord Janos said he would, and I quote, 'look into it'."

"That. . .that's it?" Hunter couldn't hide his incredulity.

"That was it," Neera replied. "Jason, I know what you're thinking, I've thought it myself. I believe Lord Janos has thought it. Keep it to yourself, and train him as if he were any other newbie. He will listen, so long as you do not treat him as if he is stupid. I assure you, he is not. He is, in fact, a genius, pure and simple."

"Neera, I'm not sure I even want to be in the same room with him," Hunter replied. _Or on the same ship with him either_, he didn't add, but Neera heard it anyway.

"Jason, he has worked very hard to get himself in order," her voice was hard now. "He has expended great effort to learn, and to keep himself under tight control. As long as you honor that, and remember _not to antagonize him_, things will be fine. And" he voice took on a harder edge, now, "it's not as if you've any choice in the matter. If he is, indeed, an Apparent, then. . .we may well find ourselves working for him one day. Whether he is, or not, however, he is a favored son of Lord Janos. I should not have to explain to you what that means."

"You do not," Hunter's attitude change was instantaneous. "We will see to him as best we can," he promised.

"I know you will," Neera's voice conveyed her own confidence. "I've never seen you fail to train someone."

"He may well be the first," Hunter sighed. "But it won't be because we didn't try. Is he aware of the ramifications of. . . ."

"No, and he will _not be _made aware of them, either, unless and until Lord Janos makes that decision. I trust I make myself clear on that?"

"Crystal," Hunter almost snapped to attention. "I merely wondered, that's all. If you will excuse me, I should get back to work."

"Very well," Neera cut the call off. Jason Hunter stood, releasing a long breath.

"Son-of-a-bitch."

STE

Trip was lost in whiteness, concentrating on the black ball in front of him. His mind was clear, other than to focus on that ball. He began to change the shape of the black space, first into a square, the back to the circle, then to a triangle. Whatever shape he chose, the black space slowly evolved in his vision.

Suddenly, he was still. Calm. For the first time since the death of his sister, since he began this odyssey of his own making, Charles Anthony Tucker was. . .still.

He breathed deeply, allowing his lungs to fill, expelling the air in a steady stream. The speed was unimportant, merely the steadiness. He concentrated only on keeping his breathing steady, and increasing the amount of black area until it engulfed the white he'd started with.

Now, all around him was darkness. Another breath. He created with his mind a spot of white, allowing it to appear to him in a random space amongst the dark. He noticed, peripherally, that it did not appear in the center of his 'vision', but instead, high, and the his left. It grew brighter, though Trip had not bid it do so.

He noticed suddenly that other points of light had appeared in his darkness. He had not imagined them into being, they simply appeared on their own. In the distant depths of his mind, he wondered why. Was it a memory of some kind? A pattern of stars that his subconscious had brought from his time in space.

He studied the placement of the stars, however, and found nothing familiar about them. If he had, indeed, seen them before, he could not remember it. So why was he seeing them?

_You see them because I have seen them._

"What the hell?" Trip's eyes opened suddenly. He looked up to see every member of Hunter's team staring at him.

"What?" he demanded, still shaken. "Who said that, anyway?"

"Said what, sir?" Hunter asked carefully.

"Somebody was talkin' ta me, while I was. . .ain't none o' ya got nothin' better ta do?" he cut himself off, staring at the rest. Indeed, everyone suddenly had something better to do. Trina rose, but Trip stopped her.

"No. You stay," he ordered, and she obediently sank back to the floor across from him. Her eyes were wide, and she looked. . .shaken.

"What?" Trip demanded again.

"Nothing, my L . . . sir," the woman replied shakily.

"What's wrong with you?" he demanded, though not unkindly. "You okay?"

"I am well, sir," she nodded meekly.

"Hey, I'm still the same guy that sat down here with ya," he said gently. "Now what in the Sam Hill was ever'body starin' at?"

"My Lord," Jason Hunter said softly. "You were. . .glowing."

STE

"Glowing?" Neera asked, having been summoned to the gym.

"Neera, this is most. . .disturbing," Jason admitted. "I've never seen anything like it, even from. . .I mean even Lord Janos has never. . . ." He trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"That you know of," she reminded him. He nodded.

"That I know of."

"Jason, you're a good man, and a better soldier," Neera spoke softly. "But you are young to our ways. There is a great deal you have yet to learn. Do not be so. . .alarmed."

"You're telling me you _aren't_ alarmed?" he asked.

"I am not _unconcerned_," she corrected him. "I will take him with me, now," she told him. "This might not have been the best idea I've had today," she admitted.

"The troops aren't unsettled, they're. . .well, they're fascinated. We all are," he admitted. "It was the most. . .it was incredible," he struggled for the right word.

"They are to keep this among themselves," she ordered. "This is not to be repeated among the crew, even among those of our kind. Understood?" Hunter nodded.

"Very well, then," she sighed. "As I said, I will take him with me. I will have to consult Janos on this. You said he demanded to know who spoke?"

"My hands to heaven, Neera, none of us spoke a bloody _word_," Jason swore. "No one was talking, just. . .staring. I don't think anyone _could_ speak, to be honest. It was as if we were in a trance. Myself included."

"I can see why you find this disturbing," Neera admitted. "I'll take care of it. You said. . .who, did you say, was assisting him?"

"Trina," he pointed to the slim girl, currently working out with another member of the squad.

"Had she spoken to him?"

"No, she was just as stunned as the rest. She. . .she's younger, even than I am, Neera. There's no way she could. . . ."

"I understand," Neera raised a hand to halt his objection, or whatever. "We'll be going, now." She walked over to where Trip was watching the others work.

"Trip, how are you feeling?" she asked, taking his hand.

"Why does ever body keep askin' me that?" he looked at her. "I ain't felt this good in weeks. I feel more rested than any time I can remember, to be honest. I'ma try this again."

"Not here, though," Neera told him gently. "From now on, we'll do this ourselves. Alone."

"Why?" Trip was puzzled. "I didn't do nothin' wrong, did I?" he asked with trepidation.

"No, my love, you did not," she smiled at him. "You are just. . .a bit too different, perhaps, that's all. We'll change the way the two of us train. To recreate what happened for you today," she explained.

"All right, then," Trip nodded.

"Come with me, and let's. . . ." Neera was cut off.

"_Action stations, Actions stations! All hands to Action Stations, this is not a drill! Captain and XO to the bridge_!" Julio's voice sounded oddly strained.

The ship became a beehive of activity as Trip and Neera ran for the bridge.

STE

Jonathon Archer was in a pickle. To put it mildly.

Having lent assistance to a group of aliens calling themselves the Triannon, he now found himself, his crew, and his mission, held hostage by fanatics. Fanatics who had concealed explosives inside their bodies, and were now scattered through out the ship at vital points.

Either Archer turned over command of his ship to D'Jamat, the fanatics leader, or they would kill themselves, and everyone on board. One of them had already done so in a 'demonstration', killing one crew member, and sending several others to the infirmary.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Archer had been forced to agree, at least for now. The fanatical D'Jamat couldn't care less that _Enterprise_ was Earth's only chance to prevent the death of the entire human race. All he could see was using the Sphere's to create his version of heaven.

The only one among them who seemed to have any hesitation was a woman, who had spoken to Phlox in confidence, asking his assistance.

"Look, I need my ship, my crew, to defend my people," Archer tried again. "Why can't you understand that?"

"I do understand, Archer," D'Jamat informed him. "I simply do not care. Now, order all non-essential crew to their quarters. Or must I demonstrate my resolve to you again?"

Archer nodded to T'Pol, who with a raised eyebrow, made the announcement.

Malcolm Reed, off the bridge at the moment, took the order as a gift from heaven. He made his way immediately to his quarters, locking the door behind him. Taking a small case from beneath his bunk, he swiftly assembled the device he hoped would save the ship.

"I know you're out there mate," he said to himself, encoding the message. "Please here me, Trip, or we're all dead."

STE

"When did we start picking this up?" Trip demanded, listening to Malcolm's message a second time.

"Less than thirty minutes," Givens told him. "It took me a minute or two to unlock the code."

"Why didn't you call me soon's you got it?" Trip demanded, taking his chair.

"Wasn't marked urgent, sir," Givens replied. "In fact it wasn't directed anywhere in particular. Until I decoded it, I didn't even know it was for you." Trip nodded his understanding.

"Okay, how far away is _Enterprise_, and are they aware of our presence?"

"Three hundred thousand kilometers, and I don't see how they could be," Givens replied.

"_Enterprise_ changing course, sir," Kron reported. "Increasing speed."

"Follow'em, Mister Trail," Trip ordered. "Casual like," he added with a grin.

"Casual it is, My Lord," Trail nodded, and sent the _Acheron_ in pursuit.

"What are you going to do?" Neera asked.

"Sometimes, all you need is a good cleanin'," Trip told her. "Reckon it's time I cleaned up around here." He stood.

"Kron, you have the bridge. Julio, keep me apprised. Knowin' Malcolm, if he ain't dead for doin' this, he'll try to update us. Make sure you hear him, okay?"

"My Lord," Givens nodded, never taking his attention from his board.

"Walk with me," he ordered Neera.

"Where are we going?"

"Engineering. I need to talk to Tala."

"Yes, sir, I can do that," Tala nodded after Trip explained to her what he wanted. "But we'll have to be close, sir. Within ten thousand kilometers."

"I'll put you where you need to be, time comes," Trip promised.

"How will I know who to. . . ."

"Life signs," Trip cut in. "There should be one Vulcan, one Denobulan, and the rest are human. Erase any Human, Vulcan, or Denobulan life signs from the scan, and those are your targets."

"That'll do it," Tala nodded. "It'll take me about two minutes after the scan, sir, depending on how many there are, and where they are.

"I'll get you two minutes," Trip promised grimly. "One way or another. How long until you're ready."

"We'll be ready in five minutes," the little Andorian promised.

"Five minutes it is, then."

". . .et me save my planet from destruction, and I'll help you any way I can," Archer was pleading his case again. "I'll help you build it with my own two hands, so long as I know there's a home for me to return to!"

D'Jamat's reply was cut off by T'Pol.

"Ship closing on our location, Captain," T'Pol announced from her scanners. "It was not there even a minute ago."

"What now?" Archer wanted to scream.

"Who are they!?" D'Jamat demanded.

"Unknown," T'Pol never looked up from her scanner. "Ship configuration does not match any known vessel."

"I _demand_ you tell me who they are!" the alien almost screamed.

"I cannot give you information I do not have," T'Pol replied cooly. "I have never seen this type of vessel before Captain, nor is it's like recorded in the Vulcan Database. I can only surmise that the vessel belongs to a race indigenous to the Expanse. One we have not before encountered."

"We're being hailed," Hoshi announced.

STE

Trip had walked back onto the bridge, straight to Julio Givens. Bending down over the tech wizard's shoulder, he passed him a chip, and whispered in his ear.

"Encode this with the same code Malcolm used. When it's done, be ready to bounce it back down the same freq he used to get it here. I'm going to order you to hail the _Enterprise_ in a minute or two, so try and piggy back the message onto that. Can do?"

"Can do, sir," Julio grinned.

"Good man," Trip patted his shoulder. "Let me know when you're ready." He rose, and walked to his chair.

"Kron, we're not going to shoot at the _Enterprise_," he ordered. "We'll also keep our shields lowered. You may polarize the hull, but unless the Vulcans gave the _Enterprise_ weapons tech, which I doubt, the worst she can do to us is scratch the paint."

"Yes, My Lord," Kron nodded, and set about making things so.

"If any other ship shows up, we'll let them make the first move," Trip continued. "If they open fire on us, you are weapons free. Return fire at your discretion."

Kron might have smiled. Almost.

"Mister Trail, we are going to be maneuvering very close to Enterprise. Inside ten thousand klicks. Let's try not to damage anything," Trip said with a smile.

"Never know we're there, sir," Trail smiled, making his own adjustments.

"Oh, they'll know we're there, all right," Trip murmured. He felt Neera's hand on his shoulder, and reached up to caress it.

"Damndest thing happened to me while I was meditatin'," he told her, speaking to allow the time to pass by.

"I know," she said softly. "We'll speak of it later, when the danger is passed."

He nodded, accepting that she knew what had happened, and would help him make sense of it.

"Sir, entering ten kay klicks. We are being scanned," Trail reported.

"Ready, My Lord," Julio said, never looking up.

"Shield down, My Lord," Kron reported. "Guns are charged, no targeting data." Trip opened a channel to the Senior Engineer's post.

"Tala, you ready down there?"

"_Almost, My. . .we're ready_," she corrected. "_All life forms accounted for, we think. We're almost in range for locks._"

"I'll leave this channel open," he told her. "As soon as you have them locked on, say 'ready', and wait for my reply. Understood? Just 'ready' and nothing else."

"_Understood My Lord_," Tala replied.

"Now, Mister Givens," Trip settled into his chair. "Hail them."

STE

"I suggest you answer them," Archer said quietly to D'Jamat. "If you don't, they may open fire on us."

"Destroy them!" D'Jamat ordered.

"Our weapons cannot successfully engage this vessel," T'Pol informed him stoically. "Our scans cannot penetrate beyond the outer hull. Captain, this ship appears to be configured with a double hull design. Our armaments are inadequate to cause them damage."

"You're going to have to talk to them, D'Jamat," Archer said softly. "If we open fire, they'll destroy us."

D'Jamat wanted to scream with rage. Finally, though, he nodded.

"On screen," Archer snapped. Three seconds later he was looking at. . . .

"Trip?"


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Jon," Trip nodded casually. "Who's your buddy?" Trip asked.

"He's not my. . . ."

"I am D'Jamat, the new captain of this vessel, and prophet of. . . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Trip cut him off. "_Enterprise _ain't never had but one Cap'n, and you ain't it. I want any more from you, I'll squeeze yer head. Jon, what the hell's goin' on?"

"Trip, where. . .are you on that ship?" Archer asked.

"I command it," Trip said calmly. "Who's this guy?" Trip pointed.

"I am _D'Jamat_! And you will address _me_, not this human! I am the rightful commander of this vessel, and will use it to. . . ."

"We already settled that," Trip cut him off again. "I don't really give a rat's ass what you're plannin' to do, cause you ain't gonna make it. Now," Trip leaned back. "I'll give you two minutes to turn command back over to Archer, surrender your men, and be taken into custody."

STE

"_Ready_," Tala's voice came over his chair com, and Trip smiled.

"So what's it gonna be?"

"We will never surrender!" D'Jamat screamed, coming to his feet. "And if . . . ."

"All I needed to hear," Trip cut him off for the last time. "Now, Tala," he said calmly.

STE

On _Enterprise_, the bridge crew watched as a still screaming D'Jamat began to glow, then to sparkle, then disappeared entirely. T'Pol immediately checked her instruments.

"No Triannon life signs remain aboard the _Enterprise_," she reported cooly. "I am reading several small explosions beyond Commander Tucker's vessel," she added, frowning.

"Trip, what have you done?" Archer asked.

"Transported'em into space, other side o' my ship from yours," Trip replied calmly. "Problem solved."

"Trip, some of them were women!" Archer was horrified.

"Should'a picked their boyfriends better," Trip shrugged. "Not my problem."

"One of them was _pregnant_!"

"Sorry to hear that," Trip replied, a little less harshly this time. "How's your ship?" he asked, back to business. "Need any help with repairs?"

Jonathon Archer gaped at the screen. He'd never imagined, let alone seen Trip Tucker act so callous.

"Trip, did you hear what I said?" he asked.

"Yeah, I heard ya," Trip nodded. "Too late now, and they were interfering with your mission. You're supposed to be savin' Earth, not lettin' some yahoo like that high jack your ship. Do. You. Need. Help."

"We have made sufficient repairs for now, Comm. . .Captain," T'Pol answered when Archer simply stared at his friend.

"Hey, T'Pol," Trip nodded. "Need our doctor? I can bring her over, if you want."

"I will consult with Phlox," T'Pol nodded. "We do have injured."

"All right," Trip nodded. "We'll be in the neighborhood. Tucker, clear." The feed cut, just like that. T'Pol looked at a still stunned Jonathon Archer.

"With your permission, Captain, I will go to the infirmary, and see if Doctor Phlox requires any assistance." Malcolm Reed arrived just then, and T'Pol's eyes narrowed.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"Confined to quarters," Reed replied. "What happened?"

"It would seem that Commander Tucker has saved us once again," she replied.

"What? How?"

"There is a ship close aboard, port side, that is apparently commanded by now Captain Tucker," T'Pol watched him carefully.

"But . . . but he _left_ Starfleet!" Reed protested. "How is he. . . ."

"I'm sure you would know that far better than I," T'Pol answered. "You have the bridge, Lieutenant Commander. I am on my way to the infirmary, and the Captain needs to address urgent matters in his ready room."

"Yes, Commander," Reed nodded. "I'll be up to speed momentarily."

"Captain, will you accompany me?"

STE

"Was that really Trip?" Archer asked, as he sat down behind his desk. "T'Pol, he just killed. . . ."

"He killed the people who took this ship hostage, and murdered a crewman under your command, Captain," T'Pol replied evenly. "In every legal code I am aware of, his actions would be justified."

"That doesn't make them right!" Jon found his command voice finally.

"Being 'not right' does not always mean 'not necessary'," T'Pol shrugged. "I must report to the infirmary."

"Are you injured?" Archer asked, concerned.

"An old problem, aggravated by our recent difficulties. Nothing to be concerned about."

"All right," Jon nodded. T'Pol left a still shaken Captain Archer, and headed for the infirmary.

STE

"Yes, I could use the help," Phlox nodded. "I have one patient who may require surgery, and Crewman Cutler was slightly injured in the blast. She will recover, but at present is unable to assist me, should I be forced to operate."

"Very well," T'Pol nodded. "I shall ask for Captain Tucker's assistance."

"Captain Tucker?"

"Our former chief engineer has acquired himself a promotion from some source outside Starfleet," T'Pol explained evenly. "I do not yet know who that is."

"I see," Phlox nodded. "Do you know what became of my other patient? I should like to check on her as soon as possible. All of this commotion is not good for her, or her child."

"That will not be possible, Doctor," T'Pol told him evenly. "Your patient did not survive the attack."

"What?" Phlox was shocked.

"I will try to explain when I know more," T'Pol promised. "Until then, I will make arrangements for assistance."

STE

"I appreciate it, Delana," Trip repeated as he, Grix, Neera, and an 'honor guard', i.e. protection detail, boarded a shuttle for the flight over.

"Not in the least," she smiled. "I know Phlox from my own IME days. It will be nice to see him again, though I do wish the circumstances were better."

"Me too," Trip nodded.

"All secure, My Lord," Tragon reported. He was in charge of the multi species body guard, consisting of himself, Trina from Hunter's command, and Dru'hak himself, who refused command.

"No sense offending the human sensibilities," he'd laughed. "Present company excluded, of course," he had grinned at Trip.

Everyone was in their 'uniform', including Grix. Trip had to admit, she filled it out pretty well. Nothing like Neera, of course, but. . . .

"Ready to depart, My Lord," the pilot, and rating named Johns reported.

"No one calls me that while we're on _Enterprise_," Trip ordered. "Its just 'Captain'. Understood?"

"Of course, My Lord," six voices answered at once. Trip just sighed as the shuttle exited the boat bay.

STE

"Permission to come aboard?" Trip asked as the airlock opened.

"Granted, Mate," Malcolm smiled at him. "Thanks for savin' our bacon," he added. "I just found out what happened a few minutes ago," he added.

Trip almost smiled. Malcolm had gotten the message.

"No problem, buddy," he did smile, then, shaking Malcolm's hand. "This is Neera, Doctor Delana Grix, Major Tragon-Das, Sergeant Trina Mickels, and Commander Dru'hak."

"Bloody hell," Malcolm muttered, his eyes moving from Grix to Dru'hak, then back to Grix, then finally to Trina. His eyes narrowed but her head shake kept him quiet.

"The inconsiderate nob here is Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed," Trip shook his head.

"I'm to escort the doctor to sick bay," Reed informed him.

"Trina, you're with her. She doesn't leave your sight."

"Yes, my. . .Captain," the 'girl' caught herself in time.

"You know where the Captain's ready room is," Reed mentioned. "Be warned. He is not happy."

"Couldn't care less," Trip replied. "We'll head that way. Johns, stay with the shuttle," he ordered.

"Aye, Captain."

The quartet made an impressive looking group heading down the passageway. They were doing fine until two MACO's spotted Dru'hak.

"Halt!"

"Why?" Trip asked. Neera eased closer to him, just in case.

"Who are you? And how did you get on this ship?" one of the two demanded.

"I'm the man that just saved your ship, and I came here by shuttle," Trip replied. "What the hell are two MACO's doing here, and how come you didn't know there was a shuttle dockin? Although that does explain how your ship got taken from you," he added, not quite derisively.

"Trip," Neera warned.

"Trip?" the other Maco, a woman, relaxed slightly. "Tucker?"

"That'd be me," Trip nodded. "You are?"

"Corporal Amanda Cole, MACO detachment, _Enterprise._"

"Since when do MACO's provide Starfleet security?" Trip asked.

"Since the Captain requested us, sir," Cole replied.

"Well, you're doin' a great job, so far," Trip couldn't stop himself. "Can one o' ya take us to the Captain's ready room? Or can ya trust us enough to let us find our own way there?"

"I'll escort you," Cole's face was red from Trip's verbal dressing down, but she maintained her professionalism. She led them to the ready room, then stood by.

"You'll do, Cole," Trip smiled at her. "Anyone else would have had a fit at me. You stood your ground, and carried on. Well done."

"Thank you, sir," the astonished Cole nodded. Trip walked into Jon's ready room, where he found Archer, T'Pol, and yet another MACO. Who instantly drew his sidearm at the sight of Dru'hak.

Tragon-Das, unsure if the target was his captain, instantly stunned the MACO to the floor.

"Dammit, Trip!" Archer exploded. Trip looked at Tragon.

"Stunned, My. . .sir," the Denobulan assured him.

"He'll be fine," Trip waved toward the MACO casually. "How are you, Jon?" he asked, this time with concern.

"Well, thanks to your _massacre_, we're fine," Archer shot back. Neera sighed. This wasn't going well at all.

"Massacre, huh?" Trip repeated, his voice dull. "Kinda like the one where my sister and seven million more died? People who hadn't done no wrong, killed a soul on Xindi, or even heard of'em? That kind o' massacre?"

"There was no reason to kill them all!" Archer shot back. "I could have reasoned with them, some of them, given time."

"Reasoned your way right out of a ship that way," Trip nodded, just as merciless as Archer. "In case you missed out, you ain't got time to be 'reasonin' with people that try and stop you gettin' the job done,_ Captain_."

"At least I'm doing something!" Archer shot back. "I'm not the one who ran away!"

_Why is this man so stupid_? Neera wondered.

_Why does he take these insults_? Dru'hak wondered.

_Why doesn't he shoot this moron_? Tragon wondered.

"I believe we should allow cooler heads to prevail," T'Pol entered the fray. "It is gratifying to see you well, Commander."

"Good to see you too, T'Pol," Trip smiled, then sighed as he felt Neera stiffen slightly. "You look a little. . .off, T'Pol, you don't mind me sayin'," he went on. "You feel okay? You ain't hurt, are you?"

"Your concern is kind, but unnecessary," T'Pol nodded. "I will be fine, once I have had time to meditate properly.

_She lies_, Trip heard inside his head. He flinched, but said nothing. Instead, he looked at his one time friend. Maybe still friend, though it wasn't looking good.

"Jon, how's the ship? he asked. "Anything we can help with?"

"Forget the ship," Archer almost snarled. "What are you even doing here?"

"I been protectin' your ass for. . .how long?" he looked over at Neera.

"Perhaps too long, considering his attitude," Neera ground out. Her anger was mostly for the Vulcan, and for the life of her, she couldn't understand why.

"A while, then," Trip sighed. "Who do you think kept Duras from ambushing you?"

"Starfleet did that!" Archer snapped.

"No, they didn't," Trip almost laughed. "He had three Bird o' Prey flyin' right up your ass when you entered the Expanse."

"What?" That was enough to at least get Archer's attention.

"You heard me," Trip told him. "I gave'im a chance to go home, and he didn't take it. Cost him."

"You. . . ." Archer gaped.

"That would be the explosions and residue we observed as we first entered the Expanse," T'Pol nodded.

"About there, yeah," Trip nodded.

"You destroyed three Klingon Bird of Prey?" Archer asked, glancing at the towering Dru'hak.

"He did, and well done it was," Dru'hak answered for him. Just then the stunned MACO started coming around. Trip, with an ease that surprised Archer and T'Pol both, reached down and set the man on his feet.

"Reckon you can play nice, now?" Trip asked, a tinge of warning in his voice. "We don't appreciate havin' guns aimed at us," he continued, returning the man's pistol. "Don't appreciate it so much, in fact, that we killed the last bunch that tried it. Now, you behave, and we won't have no more problems."

"Trip, this is Major Jay Hayes, MACO detachment commander."

"Major," Trip nodded.

"He's a Klingon!" Hayes pointed at Dru'hak.

"Most observant," Dru'hak muttered.

"That's enough," Archer snapped. "This is still my ship!"

"No, it's your ship _again_," Trip corrected him. "Ya done lost it once, out here pokin' around. You ain't here to explore, Jon."

"I know why I'm here!" Archer's temper was getting the best of him.

"Then for the love of the Miami Dolphins, act like it!" Trip replied. "Get it together, man. If you ain't on the ball, then there's only one other solution to the problem, and believe it or not, I ain't sure, anymore, that I still want to 'massacre' the Xindi."

"Perhaps this is a discussion best had in a sitting position," T'Pol decided to interject. "Say, in the Captain's mess?" she added. Archer looked at her for a moment, then back to Trip. Suddenly, he grinned.

"She's right," he nodded. "I'm sorry, Trip. How 'bout some dinner? I'll have Chef make you pan fried catfish. And throw in a pecan pie."

"Talked me into it," Trip grinned.

STE

"Your vessel is unlike anything I have ever seen, Com. . .Captain Tucker," T'Pol observed from her seat. The woman, Neera, had placed herself firmly next to Tucker, and for some reason that annoyed T'Pol. The fact that she _was_ annoyed, simply annoyed her further.

"Built'er from the deck up," Trip nodded. "For one purpose," he admitted.

"What purpose?" Archer asked.

"The _Acheron_ was designed and constructed to ensure that something like the Xindi attack can never happen again," Neera replied to that one, hoping that Trip would not. . . .

"How do you intend to accomplish that?" T'Pol asked.

"By completely destroying the Xindi," Trip answered her flatly. "A funeral pyre worthy of seven million murdered men and women." Neera sighed silently, and returned to her meal.

"Ah, Trip," Jon said after a few seconds of stunned silence, "that's a tall order for one boat."

"Not for the _Acheron_," Trip shook his head. "She can take on the Xindi, all right. And then some," he added darkly.

"I am curious where you acquired such technology,' T'Pol said.

"Built most of it ourselves," Trip admitted. "Bought what we couldn't build."

_She is unwell_, the voice came to him again, making him frown.

"What's wrong?" Neera asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Later," he replied simply. "When the danger has passed," he added, letting her know what might be bothering him. She nodded.

"I'd love to see your ship, Trip," Jon was saying.

"You're welcome to the nickel tour while your repairs are bein' made," Trip nodded. "But not you, T'Pol. Sorry."

"What?" T'Pol almost sounded hurt.

_Nah, she wouldn't show it, even if she was_, Trip thought to himself.

"Trip, why would you object to T'Pol seeing you ship?" Jon asked, frowning.

"I don't mean it like that," Trip shook his head. "It's not safe for you, T'Pol, that's all. The hull is lined with a substance called Trellium D. For some reason, it has an adverse effect on Vulcan Physiology, especially neural pathways. Remember Kov?" T'Pol almost jerked at the reminder of the _Vah'klas_.

"He's the chief engineer for my project," Trip went on as if he hadn't noticed. "When he was exposed to the Trellium it damaged his neural pathways. Fortunately our doctor, Delana Grix, is a Betazoid. She was able to repair the damage, but. . .well, it left Kov unable to serve on the ship. He's still on the station, overseeing other projects."

"Indeed," T'Pol tried to hide her interest. If this Doctor Grix had been able to repair the damage to Kov, then perhaps. . . .

"Anyway, that's why, T'Pol," Trip said kindly. "It ain't that I don't trust you, I just wouldn't want you to go through what Kov did. That's all."

"I understand, Captain, and appreciate your forethought," T'Pol nodded serenely.

_I can see I'm going to need to set this Vulcan straight on a few things_, Neera thought savagely, though outwardly she was calm. She might have to talk to Trip, too.

"Neera and I would be glad to host you to dinner, Jon," Trip said then. "You can bring anyone else you want along. No other races have any trouble with Trellium D. And Doctor Grix is trying to find a way to prevent it from affecting Vulcans, T'Pol. Maybe she'll have some success."

"I will speak to her, and see if I can be of assistance while she is onboard, if that is permissible?"

"Sure," Trip grinned. "She might benefit from your insight. Love Kov to death, but if it ain't mechanical, he's just not interested. Your background in science might be a lotta help."

"Then I will do so," T'Pol nodded.

"Meanwhile, Jon, if you want, we can head over soon as we finish eatin'."

"Y'know, I think I'd like that, Trip," Jon smiled. Despite his shock at the death of the Triannon, Archer was more than pleased at Trip's presence.

_Enterprise_ was no longer all alone in the dark of the Expanse.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Archer was impressed, and it showed.

"Trip, this is. . .I don't think I've seen anything like it, ever. Not even the Vulcans can compare."

"No, they can't," Trip nodded. "Like I said, _Acheron_ was designed to be a warship, and nothing else."

"How did you get the money for all this?" Jon wondered aloud.

"Broke open my piggy bank," Trip chuckled.

"Took more than that," Jon shook his head. "Trip, there are systems on this ship that Starfleet would kill for."

"They'll work it out eventually," Trip's reply wasn't quite unfriendly.

"And you've been following us all this time?" Jon asked.

"Not following as much as. . .being in the neighborhood. That's all."

"Was that what you intended to do all along?" Jon asked.

"No," Trip shook his head. "I intended to go seek out the Xindi, and erase them from existence," he said honestly. "I didn't, and may still not, intend to leave a single Xindi alive, anywhere I can find them."

"Trip, that's. . .that's genocide," Jon almost whispered.

"Same thing they got planned for us," Trip nodded. "Sounds fair to me."

"Trip, there has to be another way," Jon shook his head. "This entire thing has to be a misunderstanding. If we can just talk to them. . . ."

"Like the way they talked to us before they attacked Earth?" Trip's voice was hard. "Look, Jon, I'm not a diplomat. And I'm past caring about being nice. You got your way, I got mine. But," he looked at his old friend.

"I put my way on hold, for you," he said. "When I heard you were going into the Expanse, I decided that you had to have the chance to make things work, make things right. And I decided it was my job to make sure you got the chance."

"So that's why I'm here," he took a deep breath. "It's why Malcolm called me when you lost control of _Enterprise_. He alone knew I was out here, watching over you. All of you."

"What?" Archer looked as if he didn't know whether to be mad, or hurt.

"I will take it very personally if Mal suffers for that, Jon," Trip turned cold eyes on his friend. "He's worked damn hard to make sure you had every scrap of information available on the Expanse. He was told, flat out, to pretend I didn't exist out here. To only call if things looked too bleak to fix."

"He's loyal to you to the bone, Jon. Turned down a damn good position with. . .a good outfit, to stay by your side. Don't make me take it personal. Understand?"

Jon looked at the blue eyes that had once held so much mirth, kindness, love for his fellow man, and for life in general, and saw nothing but ice.

"I don't know that I can overlook something like that, Trip," he settled for saying.

"Why?" Trip snorted. "Because you think his loyalty's in question? Or on account o' he knew somethin' you didn't?"

"That's got nothing to do with it," Jon managed to say evenly.

"It's got everything to do with it," Trip said tiredly. "I've always thought of you as family, Jon, so I'm gonna talk to you that way. Malcolm has connections you can't even begin to imagine. He don't have to be here. In fact, there's a place for him with me, right now, he want's it and you start in givin' him a hard time over this."

"There's another ship, just like this one, with his name on it, whenever he wants it," Trip continued. "He turned it down. To stay with _you_. Keep that in mind while you're thinkin'."

"As for you, you can't stand not to know everything, _about _everything, all the time. What Malcolm did hasn't endangered you. In fact, he saved you."

"He withheld. . . ."

"He did the same thing to Starfleet, and seems to me, accordin' to what I been told, you didn't mind that. Worked pretty good in your favor, I'd say. Just like today." Trip straightened himself. Archer looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since Trip had shown up.

"Are you. . .are you taller?" he asked suddenly.

"I'm still a growin' boy," Trip grinned.

"What's happened to you, Trip?" Jon asked suddenly.

"Don't worry about that, Jon. Question is, where you go from here," Trip got their talk back on track.

"We still have to find some way to contact, or at least locate the . . . ."

"_Action Stations, Action Stations, this is not a drill! All hands to Action Stations! Senior officers to the bridge_!"

"Well, I'd say we go to the bridge," Trip sighed and started that way.

"I need to get back to _Enterprise_!" Jon objected.

"Nothin'll happen to _Enterprise_," Trip promised. "I'd like you to be with me. Might be you can find out what you need to know." Jon nodded at that and started following.

STE

"Red Alert, Mister Reed," T'Pol ordered aboard Enterprise.

"We're being. . ._Acheron_ for you, Commander," Hoshi said.

"On screen." Archer's face appeared a minute later.

"Pull back behind the _Acheron_, T'Pol," he ordered. "These are Xindi ships, and they are ignoring out hails. Trip says he can deal with them."

"We read a total of five ships, Captain," T'Pol pointed out.

"Trip says they should have brought more," Archer shrugged. "At any rate, it's too late for me to return. Until and unless I do, the ship is your's."

"Yes, sir," T'Pol nodded. "Mister Mayweather, please place us astern of the _Acheron_."

"Aye, ma'am," Travis responded, setting off on a new heading.

"We can't abandon them after they helped us!" Hoshi objected before she thought.

"They don't need our help, Ensign," Reed replied confidently.

"You seem very sure of that, Commander," T'Pol noted.

"I am."

STE

"Based on the probe, we can tentatively identify the ships as Xindi, with a eighty-two percent probability rate," Givens announced without fanfare as Trip, Archer, and Neera arrived on the bridge.

"Kron?"

"Shields up, weapons charged," the Tactical Officer replied. "Ship is secure."

"Hail'em," Trip ordered.

"No response, My Lord," Givens reported. Trip winced, and could see Archer stiffen in his peripheral vision. _Oh, well_.

"Pick the one that looks the least important, Kron, and destroy it," Trip said casually.

"Wait!" Archer interjected. "This could be our chance Trip! If we open fire, then they'll never talk to us!"

Trip looked at Jon, reminding him without saying so, that this was his ship. When he was sure his point was made, he raised a hand.

"Hold your fire, Kron." He looked at Givens.

"Open a frequency for Captain Archer," he ordered, looking at Jon. "Have at it. If they so much as twitch, they're dust. Best offer you'll get today." Jon nodded, and stepped forward.

"This is Captain Jonathon Archer, of the Earth Ship _Enterprise_," he said calmly, allowing any translators time to work. "I say again, this is Captain Jonathon Archer, of the Earth Ship _Enterprise_. We are here on a mission of peace, not war. Please, allow us to speak."

"_Acheron_ is hailing the Xindi. . .probable Xindi," Hoshi corrected, "on an open frequency. Captain Archer is doing the talking," she smiled.

"Thank God," Reed murmured, causing T'Pol's eyebrow to twitch.

"You have a problem with Captain Tucker?" she inquired.

"None, Commander," Reed assured her. "But Trip. . .Comm. . ._Captain_ Tucker isn't long on patience these days. If he's allowing the Captain to do the talking, perhaps calmer heads have prevailed, for now."

"Indeed."

STE

"We're getting a response," Givens' surprise showed.

"On screen," Trip ordered, looking at Jon. "Hey, maybe you did it," he grinned.

"We'll see," Archer nodded. Just then, an ape looking creature appeared on the screen.

"You are an enemy of my people, Captain," the alien said. "Why should I not simply destroy you?"

"We're not your enemy unless you make it so," Jon replied evenly. "We never heard of you until you attacked us, killing seven million people. We are here to find out why you believed such an attack necessary on a people who, until then, did not even know of your existence."

"If you are here peacefully, then why are your shields up, and your weapons charged?"

"This is not my ship," Archer answered calmly. "This ship rendered assistance to us after an attack, and I was visiting with it's Captain when you arrived. My ship has withdrawn a short way to give me time to speak with you."

"Who is the Captain of the ship you are on, now?"

"I am," Trip's voice was ice cold. For the first time, his enemy had a face, and his emotions were high.

"You appear to be human as well," the Xindi replied. "What is your business here?" Neera stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Just in the neighborhood," Trip smiled. "Neither I, nor my ship represent Earth. That duty falls to Captain Archer, who _does_ represent Earth. It is he you should be talking to." Neera's hand squeezed his shoulder slightly in approval.

"Why did you attack Earth?" Jon asked. "We are no threat to you. We do not even know where you live. Why kill so many of our people, so far from your home?"

"We know that Earth intends to destroy us, Captain," the Xindi replied. "Should we await your first move? Would you?"

"We do not possess the ability to destroy you, or anyone else," Archer replied honestly. "We have only been in space a few decades, and my ship is the first vessel fast enough to travel into what we refer to as deep space. Usually around one hundred light years from home."

"Lies," the Xindi snarled. "We have seen it, Archer. Your lies will do you no good here."

"I have no reason to lie," Archer told him flatly. "As for seeing it, you could not have. We simply aren't capable of it. Our technology is not that advanced, nor are our ships. My ship, though armed, is not a warship. We aren't a threat to you."

"The ship you are on now is armed," the Xindi snorted. "But not for long." Abruptly the signal cut.

"Dammit!" Archer swore.

"Enemy weapons charging, sir," Kron reported calmly.

"Mister Trail, make us difficult to hit," Trip started snapping orders. "Julio, inform _Enterprise_ things are goin' hot, and to back further off. Neera, order Jason to prepare for boardin' action. He's to use Dru'hak's troops and his own. Deploy Tragon's men to repel possible boarders."

People replied even as he spoke, and Archer simply stepped back to watch. Sometime since leaving Starfleet, Trip had become a leader. Jon was proud of him.

"Kron, start with the first ship that fires on us. Leave the weakest for the boarding party, and do not engage it. Jon, please advise T'Pol that I'd prefer _Enterprise_ fire only in defense of herself. We'll handle the rest." Givens waved Archer to his station, where he sent the order.

The first fire from the Xindi ships reached out, striking the _Acheron_.

"No damage, My Lord," Neera reported from the XO station. "Shields are holding."

"Destroy whoever did that," Trip ordered casually. Kron promptly pressed a preset switch, and the _Acheron_ shook as the majority of her weapons were brought to bear.

"Are we hit?" Archer asked.

"No, Captain, that was our guns, shaking the ship," Julio assured him.

"What?" Archer looked at him in shock.

"This won't take long, if you want to join me," Givens offered Archer an empty seat at his console. "I expect the boarding action to take longer than anything.

"Boarding party away!" Neera called just then. "Meeting moderate resistance," she added.

"Kron, watch for signs of the others targeting the ship our people are on," Trip ordered. "If they try, get rid of'em. Otherwise, well. . .take your pick."

Aye, My Lord!" Kron positively beamed.

"Jason reports that engineering is secure," Neera reported. "Shields are at ninety percent. Tala reports that all systems are fully functional."

"_Enterprise_ hailing," Givens announced.

"Talk to'em, Jon," Trip ordered. "I do _not_ want _Enterprise _in this fight," he reminded him.

STE

"Captain, Ensign Sato is monitoring the Xindi transmissions. She has information you may find useful," T'Pol informed him.

"There is more than one language being used among the Xindi ships, Captain," Hoshi said without waiting. "Not different dialects, entirely different languages."

"How are you doing with translations?" Archer asked as _Acheron_ again rolled with gunfire.

"Captain, are you in danger?" T'Pol asked.

"Not in any way, apparently," Archer shook his head. "The rolling and rocking is from the discharge of _Acheron_'s own weapons. This ship is. . .well, anyway," he turned back to Hoshi.

"Working on it, sir," she informed him. "One of them is. . .well, it seems to be mostly clicks and whistles at the moment."

"Let me know when you get it," Archer nodded. "Anything else?" he asked T'Pol.

"We are able to assist, if we are nee. . . ."

"Trip doesn't want the _Enterprise_ involved, and he honestly doesn't need us. Stay back and let them handle it. Archer out."

"Well," Reed sighed, watching a tremendous space battle unfold, while he was unable to participate.

"Indeed," T'Pol agreed.

STE

"Jason reports ship secure, My Lord," Givens reported. "No casualties, and five prisoners."

"Outstanding," Trip beamed. "Maybe there's a chance for you to get what you need, Jon," he added. "Kron, enough playing. Destroy them all," Trip ordered.

"Trip, some of them might surrender," Jon pointed out.

"Should have talked sensible to you when they had the chance," Trip said coldly. "I told them you represented Earth, not me."

"What do you represent then, Trip?" Jon asked. Trip's voice and eyes were like ice.

"Vengeance."

STE

_Acheron_ suddenly seemed to erupt in fire, and T'Pol felt a spike of momentary fear. The bridge of the _Enterprise_ was silent. Reed was the first to speak.

"Bloody _hell_, mate," he almost whispered.

"Explain," T'Pol snapped.

"He's just been playing with them until now," Reed answered, awe clear in his voice. "From the looks of it, Commander, Trip's all through playing."

It did appear that way, as a collective breath was released among the bridge crew. The fire was all outbound. Two of the three remaining Xindi ships simply ceased to exist. The last surviving vessel was listless.

"_Acheron_ hailing," Hoshi was broken from her shock.

"On screen," T'Pol ordered. Archer's face appeared.

"T'Pol, put Hayes and a team of his MACO's, along with Hoshi and yourself on a shuttle and get over here," he ordered without fanfare. "Malcolm, you have the ship."

"What has occurred, Captain?" T'Pol asked.

"Trip has just captured a Xindi ship intact, along with five prisoners," Archer told her. "It's time to learn more about our enemy."

"Captain, if possible, I would defer," T'Pol requested.

"What?"

"Until we are sure of the absence of the Trellium substance, the risk of my. . . ."

"I'm sorry, T'Pol," Archer said contritely. "I didn't even think. By all means, remain aboard _Enterprise_, and we'll forward any intel to you there."

"Thank you, Captain." The screen went blank.

"Mister Reed, you have the bridge," she announced. "I will be in sick bay."

"Aye, Commander," Reed nodded. She stopped beside him, speaking in a tone only he could hear.

"Ensure that Major Hayes details one MACO to provide for Ensign Sato's personal security," she ordered.

"I've already seen to it," Reed nodded.

T'Pol departed for sick bay. It was long since time she spoke to the Betazoid physician.

STE

". . .and I have been unsuccessful, on my own, in finding a treatment, let alone a cure."

"I see," Grix nodded at Phlox's information. "Perhaps I could see the scan?"

The two of them were studying T'Pol's scan when she entered sick bay.

"Doctors," she said cooly. "I presume there is a reason you are studying my neural scans?"

"Doctor Phlox has consulted me due to my recent treatment of Kov, Commander," Delana smiled. "I think I can help you, if you'll allow it."

"I'm afraid I took the liberty of sharing your. . .unique situation, hoping for her insight," Phlox told T'Pol freely. "She believes that she can treat the. . .problem." Even in private Phlox hesitated to mention Pa'Naar aloud.

"That would be most agreeable," T'Pol nodded. "I confess that was my purpose for this visit."

"I assume the battle is over?" Grix asked.

"Indeed," T'Pol nodded. "The _Acheron_ has destroyed four Xindi ships, and her troopers have captured the remaining vessel."

"I'm sure he enjoyed that a great deal," Delana smiled. "Perhaps that will ease his stress, at least a bit."

"Stress?" T'Pol, for some reason, was annoyed that this Betazoid woman was so. . ._familiar_ with Captain Tucker. Again, the very fact that she _was_ annoyed, served only to annoy her further.

"Were it not for the _Enterprise_'s presence here, the _Acheron_ would already be engaging the Xindi," Grix explained, hiding a smile at the Vulcan woman's unease. Her attraction to Tucker would lead her to a confrontation with Neera, if she chose to pursue it. That wasn't her problem, however.

"I do not understand," T'Pol's eyebrow rose.

"Captain Tucker made the decision to stay near _Enterprise_, in the event she needed help, rather than pursue his revenge against the Xindi," Delana explained. "That decision has caused him stress. Perhaps being able to hurt the Xindi here will help alleviate some of that stress."

"I see," T'Pol nodded. "What do I need to do, Doctor?" T'Pol returned to business, seating herself on the bio-bed Phlox had pointed her to.

"Try and relax," Delana explained. "I'm going to attempt to enter your mind. If I am successful, then I will try and repair the damage to your neural pathways, similar to what I did with Kov."

"Kov was unconscious at that time I treated him, however," Delana noted. "I do not know what difference it will make with you conscious."

"Doctor," T'Pol was hesitant, almost shy. "I am willing to endure whatever I must, if there is even a hope of you correcting my condition. Without treatment, soon, I will begin to. . .degrade, for lack of a better word. Eventually I will lose all my control, and then succumb to loss of coherence. After that, my death will likely occur within two years."

"I'm not going to allow that to happen, T'Pol," Delana promised. "I lack the knowledge to mind meld, but I am an empath, and telepath, as well. Please try and relax. In fact, if you can enter a meditative state, that might work even better."

"I will attempt to do so."

STE

"Damn," Trip said as he entered the Xindi airlock. "You boys had quite a tussle, looks like," he said to Jason.

"Most of the damage is from the Xindi themselves, My Lord," Jason replied, then winced. Trip waved it away.

"Cat outta the bag, and all that," he grinned. "Report?"

"The ship is functional," Hunter reported. "Five prisoners, two of them wounded, but not seriously. One of my troopers suffered a minor injury, but will recover. The ship's data base is intact, My Lord, as well as the Captain's quarters. We have searched for traps and destructive devices, as well. The ship is clear."

"Well done," Trip commended. "Please pass that along to the men."

"Aye, m'Lord," Jason nodded. "Should we take the prisoners to _Acheron_, or hold them here."

"Here, for now," Trip decided. "That'll give the smartest little ensign in Starfleet a chance to work out their language," he winked at Hoshi, who blushed furiously, but grinned none-the-less.

"Aye, m'Lord," Hunter nodded. "If you'll excuse me?"

"Carry on," Trip nodded.

"Trip, I've been meaning to ask," Jon began.

"Ain't the time for it," Trip shook his head. "Right now, you may have everything you need to get things on track sittin' right here on this ship. We'll lend you whatever assistance you need."

"Thanks, Trip," Jon said softly.

"Sure."


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Trip entered his quarters to find Neera waiting for him, He smiled at her, and she gently returned it.

"What's up?" he asked, shrugging off his uniform jacket.

"We should talk," Neera said simply. "I want you to sit, relax, start from the time you begin to work with Trina, and tell me what has happened today. Leave nothing out, no matter how insignificant it may seem. I will not interrupt you unless I need clarification."

Trip nodded, and did as she instructed. He included every detail, including the star pattern he'd seen in his meditation, the voice that had been present then and later on as well. He spoke slowly, clearly recalling everything. When he finished, he looked at her, and was startled at the look on her face.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked the astonished Neera.

"I. . .I'm not sure," she admitted. "I need to consult with Janos before we go any further. I'll try and do that now while you shower, and get some rest. You've been going for some time now," she reminded him

"Reckon I could use a bath," he grinned. "And while I ain't tired, I am hungry. What say after you talk to Janos we get something to eat?"

"A plan I can get behind," she smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Trip missed that, already heading for the shower. Neera made her way to her own quarters to attempt to contact her leader.

STE

"Glowing?" Janos looked puzzled. It had taken him a minute to get over the annoyance of being awakened, _again_, in the wee hours. Once she'd started, however, his demeanor had changed.

"And he has been spoken to," she added.

"What does that. . . .Neera, are you telling me what I think you are?"

"Yes, m'Lord," she nodded. "The symbiot is speaking to him."

Much to her surprise, and relief, Janos smiled.

"What did it tell him?" he asked, leaning forward with great interest.

STE

"Man, I was hungry," Trip said, tearing into his food with a gusto that his old crewmates would have found alarming. The 'new' Trip had an incredible metabolic rate, and he needed a lot more food these days because of it.

"I was too," Neera admitted. "I spoke to Janos," she said, and Trip nodded.

"So am I okay?" he asked, still eating.

"The symbiot is speaking to you," she announced simply. She had tried to find another way to bring it up, but had ultimately decided against it.

Trip stopped eating.

"What?"

"It is so rare a thing among us that it is considered merely legend," she spoke softly, even reverently. "We know of no one living that has encountered this, Trip. Not even Janos. At least, not that he's admitted."

"I didn't think that was. . .I thought. . . ."

"As I said, so very rare." Neera looked at him in awe, her hand reaching up to caress his face gently. "_So _very rare," she repeated. "Trip, you are. . .you are becoming so much more."

"Is that a _good_ 'so much more', or a _bad_ 'so much more'?" Trip asked, not certain he wanted to know.

"That will have to be for you to decide my love," Neera replied. "I do not know what you have experienced. What you may experience in the future. I can only assure you that whatever happens, it will not harm you."

"How can you know?" Trip asked, though he wasn't really concerned.

_I will never harm you, or allow harm to come to you that I can prevent_.

Neera saw him wince, then frown.

"It happened again, didn't it?" she asked.

"It said 'I will never harm you, or allow harm to come to you that I can prevent'," Trip nodded. "Then nothing else."

"You will need to continue to meditate. It may be that opening your mind during meditation allows the easiest way for the symbiot to contact you."

"I'll put it on my 'to-do' list," Trip promised, then went back to his food.

"Please do so," Neera asked. "I. . .I look forward to seeing what you become, My Lord."

STE

T'Pol emerged from her meditative state groggy and unsure of her surroundings, something she had never before encountered. She blinked away a slight film over her vision, then looked around her.

"There you are," Delana smiled gently. "How do you feel?"

"I. . ." T'Pol tried to speak, but her throat was completely dry.

"Sorry," Delana apologized, taking a cup and filling it with water. Taking the glass, T'Pol drank greedily, emptying it. Delana refilled it, and at her urging, T'Pol drank this one as well.

"Better?" she asked, smiling softly.

"Indeed," T'Pol nodded. "How long was I. . . .?"

"Eighteen hours," Delana replied, looking at the scanners giving T'Pol's vital signs. "You are in excellent health."

"You were able. . . ."

"I was, indeed," Delana smiled tiredly. "It was much more difficult than with Kov, but. . .I am happy to tell you, T'Pol, that Pa'Naar syndrome is no longer. . .present, in you. You are healed."

T'Pol lay very still at that. She had dared to hope, but. . . .

"Good morning, Commander," she turned at the voice to see a smiling Phlox approaching her bed. "I trust Doctor Grix has already given you the good news?"

"Forgive me, Doctors, but. . .are you certain. . . ."

"I assure you, Commander, you are, indeed well," Phlox patted her arm carefully. "Doctor Grix has performed a service for you which I could not."

"How do you feel, Commander?" Grix asked again. T'Pol took a minute to assess herself, and then her eyes widened.

"I. . .I feel. . .like I need to use the restroom!" she bolted from the bed, barely making it to the nearby head. Phlox smiled down at Grix.

"Only to be expected, I suppose," he chuckled.

"Her scans are clear, Doctor, and I am in need of rest. I'm going to see about catching a ride home, now, but call me at once should you need me."

"The same applies here, my valued, honored, dear colleague," Phlox smiled again. "I am so grateful to you," he added.

"It was my pleasure, Phlox, and wonderful to see you again, as well." She gathered her things and turned to find Trina standing nearby.

"Are you still here?" she smiled.

"I was told to stay with you at all times," Trina shrugged. "I have done so."

"Aren't you tired?" Grix asked. "I'm exhausted."

"I've already called for a shuttle, ma'am," Trina told her. "And I don't require much sleep."

"Glad that's true for one of us," Delana smiled. "I may be asleep before we reach home."

STE

"You needed to see me, T'Pol?" Archer asked, entering the Tac Center.

"Indeed, Captain. I may have located the Xindi homeworld."

"That's great!" Archer enthused.

"There are, however, problems," T'Pol continued, an eyebrow raised. She was more comfortable, more at ease, than at any time since reporting aboard the Enterprise. She once again wondered at the course of events that had led to her meeting with Delana Grix.

Suddenly, T'Pol had her life back. The freedom that realization had given her had been one of the most invigorating experiences of her life to date.

"Of course there are," Archer sighed. "In descending order of importance?" he asked, taking a seat.

"They are. . .somewhat close by," T'Pol began. "Approximately three weeks travel. The most direct route, however, is though a portion of the expanse that is heavily disturbed. Though we may make it through, we will not, in all likelihood, be able to do so without damage, and possibly crew losses."

"Nothing's ever easy, is it, T'Pol?" Archer looked weary. They had been on station here for the entire three days since the battle, mining the ship for any and every scrap of intel they could squeeze from it.

"Next?"

"There are anomalies in that entire region of space that closely resemble the Sphere used by the Marauder's as a base camp. As to them, it is possible that we have discovered their purpose."

"How many spheres?" Archer asked. "And their purpose."

"We have tentatively identified nineteen, so far," T'Pol informed him. "All of them are connected in some way, though we have yet to identity exactly how. As for their purpose, it is now believed that the spheres are directly responsible for the violent and unstable nature of the Expanse, as well as the anomalies we continue to experience."

"Any idea what the spheres are doing?"

"They are changing the make up of the area encompassed by the themobaric cloud that makes up the Expanse."

STE

"I don't understand," Trip admitted. He and Neera had come to Enterprise, along with Givens and Delana, to hear the same report T'Pol had given Archer. "Why would anyone want to create this mess?"

"It is my belief that the makeup of space in the affected area is being modified to make it more liveable for the Sphere builders," T'Pol informed him. Pa'Naar gone or not, it still annoyed her to see Neera so close to him. As always, the fact that she felt such annoyance aggravated her annoyance.

"The Xindi?" Neera asked, aware of the Vulcan woman's 'annoyance'. _Too bad, missy_, she thought to herself, as she sat tucked in as close to Trip as she could without causing a scene.

"I do not believe so," T'Pol put her annoyance aside. "According to the records we have translated, the Xindi themselves do not know what has caused the Expanse to begin it's transformation, and they suffer from it as we do. They are aware of the Spheres, of course, referencing them on occasion, but apparently not the danger they pose."

"Could these spheres, and their influence, be what caused them to attack Earth?" Archer asked the assembled officers.

"It is a possibility," T'Pol admitted. "But how they became aware of Earth in the first place, or how they would think that Earth was behind the spheres, is puzzling."

"Well, none o' that is revelant," Trip waved his hand as if brushing the discussion aside. "What's important is, we know where they are, who they are, and it's time to go and get some." Trip's apparent thirst for blood had not gone unnoticed by the other since they had been re-united, but it never failed to make the members of the _Enterprise_'s staff wince. Except for Malcolm, and T'Pol. Malcolm because he agreed, T'Pol because she suppressed her concern.

"It might take weeks to get there, Trip," Archer informed him. "Even if we take the direct route, we'll lose time dodging the anomalies in that area of space. Added to that, is the need to find out if these spheres are really causing the disturbance, no offense T'Pol. . . ."

"None taken."

"And if they are, then how," Archer finished.

"Why not just destroy'em as we go?" Trip shrugged.

"Because we are as yet unsure they are the cause," T'Pol informed him. "Until we are, we might be causing more harm than good." Trip was about to shoot back a reply when he winced.

_Find and destroy the primary, and the others will fall._

Contact with the symbiot had been iffy the last week, as Trip used meditation daily to help ease the stress of communications. This time, he decided to ask a question, having been waiting three days for this exact chance.

_What do I do? How do I find the primary? I don't know what powers the constructs, or how they communicate._

Instantly he was taken to the star map of his mind, and a pattern of stars appeared. One point of light was far greater.

_This is the most likely place for the primary_, he heard.

". . .ight? Trip!" Archer's voice cut into his thinking.

"What?"

"I said are you all right?" Jon repeated. "Looked like you drifted away for a minute, there."

"Sorry, Cap'n," Trip grinned, and for just a moment, the old Trip was back, and everyone from _Enterprise_ smiled. But it didn't last.

"How long for you to get to this . . . Azati Prime?" he asked, all business again.

"The best time we can figure is six more weeks," Archer admitted. "And that's assuming we don't run into any more problems," he added.

Trip considered the problem. There really was only one solution, but he wasn't comfortable with it.

"I know that look," Archer smirked. "Some things don't change that much."

"S'pose not," Trip chuckled darkly. "We have two conflicting missions," he said, standing and walking to the projected map of the Expanse.

"I figure the primary sphere is somewhere here," he pointed to the place the Symbiot had shown him. "Take it out, and it might destroy the entire network."

"How can you know that?" T'Pol demanded.

"Simple engineerin'", the lie came easily. "If they're working in concert, and I'm fair certain T'Pol is right about that, then there has to be a command sphere, even if it's automated. And it would need to be centrally located, which makes it somewhere in there."

"If we can figure out which one is the primary, and destroy it, then the network will at least be crippled. Might make the others engage a self-destruct, if nothing else."

"That. . .is. . .a reasonable hypothesis," T'Pol admitted, almost reluctantly.

"Second, is the Xindi," Trip shrugged. "We can do this one of three ways," he looked at the group. "We can split up, one ship going after the sphere, the other going to the Xindi homeworld. Or we can stay together, do each mission one at a time. Jon, you're gonna have to decide, but I'm warning you, right now. If I go to Azati Prime, alone, there probably won't be a peace offering."

Archer sighed. He didn't want to split the two ships up, even though Trip's vessel wasn't under his command. The truth was, _Acheron_'s presence the last few days had allowed the Enterprise crew to relax in a way they hadn't been able to since leaving Earth. Knowing they were protected by the _Acheron_'s armament had let a lot of people get their first good sleep in weeks.

On the other hand. . . .

"I don't know that we could destroy the sphere," Jon admitted. "Can you?"

"Without a doubt," Trip nodded. "And if it doesn't work, well, we won't have lost anything. If we succeed, we might make some friends by doing it. Can't hurt, anyway."

Archer thought about that. If they could end the terror of the Expanse and it's anomalies, that might engender some good will among the other races of the Expanse. He sighed, his decision made, hard though it was.

"Trip, you aren't under my orders, anyway," he began. "But it you're willing, I'd like you to try your theory. Meanwhile, we'll make our way to Azati Prime, and see what, if anything, we can do."

"Wouldn'a offered, I wasn't willin'," Trip smiled. "We'll be under way shortly."

"How long will it take you to reach this area?" Archer asked. He didn't know much about _Acheron_, including her top speed.

"'Bout six weeks, give or take, just like you," Trip admitted. "We time it right, and this works, the Expanse might just right itself as you're talkin' to the Xindi."

"And wouldn't that be a wonderful thing," Archer smiled. "Okay, Trip. Let's do it that way. Our repairs are long completed, and the crew rested, thanks to you. We're ready."

"Good luck, Jon," Trip shook his hand, then surprised Jon by embracing him.

"Good hunting," Archer replied.

STE

Neera waited until they were on their shuttle, heading back to _Acheron_, before she spoke.

"The symbiot spoke to you," she said. Trip nodded.

"It revealed the location of the sphere to you, and how to destroy the network." Trip nodded again.

"You know very well that we can arrive at those co-ordinates in less than three weeks," Neera prodded. "Why lie?"

"Because I plan for us to be in the shadows at Azati Prime when _Enterprise_ arrives," Trip said darkly. "And I can't think of a single good reason for Jon to know that."

Neera suppressed a shiver at his tone, but fell silent. She had questioned him enough. Her trust in him was such that she was willing to let this plan play out as Trip desired it.

STE

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Reed asked, entering Archer's ready room.

"Please sit, Malcolm," Jon pointed to a chair. "This entire discussion is off the record, for reasons that will soon become obvious."

Malcolm sat, fair certain he knew what was coming.

"Trip told me I have you to thank for his arrival," Archer said bluntly. "That you called him."

"Yes, sir," Malcolm remained calm.

"Thank you," Archer surprised him, sighing. "When he first told me, I was angry at you Malcolm. For hiding something like that from me." Reed nodded, but stayed silent.

"Trip then told me he would take it very personally if I you 'suffered' over this," he grinned, and Malcolm might have relaxed an entire millimeter.

"For once, having the benefit of time to think, I didn't react to something in a moment of rashness," Archer told him. "I know that's a failing of mine, but I can't always catch myself in time."

"Trip told me quite a few things, Malcolm, including that you turned down an offer from. . .well, whoever is in charge of that outfit. For me. Or at least for my benefit."

"Yes, sir," Reed nodded again.

"Why?" Jon was curious.

"You're my Captain," Reed said simply. "You were taking my ship in harm's way. I felt I should be here."

"I appreciate that almost as much as the intel you got for us," Archer smiled. "Anyway, I wanted to say thanks."

"You're quite welcome, sir," Reed nodded.

"Go on, get back to work," Archer laughed. Malcolm had to grin at that, and returned to his post.

STE

Trip sat in his quarters, alone. Jason Hunter was posted outside his door, along with two of Dru'hak's troopers, with Kron making checks on their status regularly. Their orders were that Trip was not to be disturbed under any circumstances, save the _Acheron_ coming under attack.

Resting comfortably on the floor, Trip examined his wall of white. His mind clear, despite being full of new revelations, he ordered the black dot to appear.

Nothing happened.

Relaxing still deeper, he tried again, focusing his entire being on the wall before him, willing the black dot to become visible on the wall.

Nothing.

Sighing in frustration, Trip shifted ever so slightly, then realized that he wasn't as deep into his meditative state as he should be. This was all new to him, and it wasn't as simple as others made it look. His respect for T'Pol climbed another notch, and he found himself wishing he had been more open to studying the benefits of meditation with her.

_You do not need them_.

"What?" Trip spoke aloud, startling himself. He repeated the question in his mind.

_You do not need them, child_, the voice repeated. _I will help you. As we grow stronger together, you will not need to resort to meditation or any other exercises to speak with me. For now, you are not yet all you will be, and I am still weak._

_What can I do to help you_? Trip asked, concerned.

_It is fitting that you should ask, but I need no assistance, only time_. There was a pause.

_I have not manifested myself like this in a very long time. I am unsure exactly how long, but. . .long_. There was a hint of frustration that Trip ignored.

_What are you_? Trip asked. _Who, are you_?

_That will come in due time, child. For now, know only that I am here should you need me, but when you do not, I must rest. Long has it been since I was forced to expend this much effort. One day, perhaps, we will talk of who, of what, I am, but that is for another time._

_Call me should you need me, otherwise I will return to you when I am able to manifest myself without pain, to either of us._

_What do I call you_? Trip asked.

_For now, call me friend._

And then, nothing. Trip was awake, and aware of a shaking on his shoulder.

"Trip, are you all right?" He looked up at the concerned face of Neera.

"What happened to 'I am not to be disturbed?'" he looked past her to where a fidgeting Kron and a shocked looking Hunter stood just inside his door. Trip had a splitting headache, and that made him more irritable than he might normally have been.

"My Lord, I did not imagine that order extended to Lady Neera," Kron replied. "And even if it did, I would not have been able to stop her."

"I cannot refuse her commands," Hunter shrugged helplessly.

"Fine," Trip groused rising to his feet. He was surprised at how sore his legs were.

"Ship status?"

"The ship is fine," Neera told him. "It is you we worry about."

"I'm fine," Trip waved the comment away. "I wasn't in here more'n twenty minutes or so. What's to worry over?"

"Sir . . . "

"My Lord. . ."

"Leave us," Neera said firmly. "Repost the guard, their orders remain unchanged. See that we are not disturbed other than an actual attack, or a message from Janos, or _Enterprise_." Both nodded, and withdrew. Neera crossed the room and locked the hatch.

"What's eatin' you?" Trip demanded.

"You were in here, alone, for nine hours," she told him flatly.

"No I wadn't," Trip scoffed, his accent coming forward. "I already told you, couldn'a been more'n a half-hour. Forty-five minutes at most."

"Check your chrono," Neera ordered. Trip bristled at that, then looked.

Then looked again.

"Huh." It was. . .about nine hours and twenty minutes since he'd come in.

"You have spoken with the symbiot," Neera almost accused.

"Yeah, I have," Trip nodded, wondering how that had taken nine hours of his life away. Then he laughed. Nine hours? Nine hours was nothing!

"I fail to see any humor in this," Neera was almost huffing.

"Had to be there, I guess," Trip told her. "Symbiot spoke to me for a good long while, in fact."

"I had to assume so, since your entire body was glowing."

"Glowing?" Trip asked. "Like in the gym, that time?"

"Not at all," Neera's voice was curt. "This time our entire quarters were awash in the glow. Almost as if you were burning."

"Don't reckon I was," Trip thought. "Am a might sweaty, though, now ya mention it."

"This was irresponsible of you," Neera told him flatly. "You will not repeat it." Suddenly Trip drew up before her, his eyes darkening, his face contorted into something. . .different.

"You will not speak to me in such a way, ever again," his voice was deep, trembling with anger. "I tolerate your. . .nagging? yes; nagging, because you have a special place in my heart. Do not abuse such a privilege."

As soon as he had spoken, Trip slumped, barely remaining upright.

"I'ma take a shower, and get some rack time," he told her, turning to do just that. "I'm 'bout plum tired."

He didn't see the look of shock on his lover's face as he made his way to the shower.

He hadn't managed to set the water to the right temperature before a naked Neera appeared beside him, eyes cast down.

"Forgive this one, My Lord, for her brashness," she said softly. "Allow me to care for you, if you will."

Trip didn't know what to say, so decided saying nothing was the best policy. Neera began to bathe him, not sensuously or enticing, but respectfully. Careful to cause him no discomfort.

Things had changed, now. Her time as a teacher had ended. Trip had become the leader, and it was her duty to follow, and obey. Outwardly her appearance was calm, but inside her, her heart sang. She had just witnessed something very few beings had ever had the privilege of seeing.

The legend was true, after all. And she had seen it come to life right before her eyes.


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Time to destination?" Trip asked, walking onto the bridge. _Acheron_ had been at Warp 7 for almost ten days.

"Approximately one hour, My Lord," Trail reported.

"Too far to get much on scans, Julio?" Trip asked, taking his seat.

"Scans are picking up the sphere, m'Lord, and I'm reading some strange signals as well, but we're still too far out to see anything of use."

"Know what kind o' signals?" Trip inquired. "And what's strange about'em."

"Never seen their like, before, sir," Givens shook his head. "Nothing in any known data bases we have access to resembles it. The strange part," Givens turned to look at him, "is that the signals seem to be moving in random directions, with no real timing pattern."

"Seem to be?" Trip grinned.

"There's a pattern, once you start looking," Julio grinned back. It was rare to get anything over on Trip. He punched a series of instructions into his computer, and suddenly a pattern filled the screen.

"As far as I can see, at least so far," Givens qualified, "the timing is irrelevant. It's the signals themselves that are interesting. See these lines?" he motioned.

"Yeah."

"Each of them represents signals between Spheres. So far we've accounted for fifty-one of them. Several seem to be relaying signals on to others, but that's conjecture for now. We are certain, however, that this Sphere," he pointed to one sphere marked TS, "is the only one transmitting with any frequency."

"TS?" Trip asked.

"Tucker's Sphere," Julio grinned. "It's the one you selected after all. And you were right."

"I hadda ask," Trip shook his head in resignation. "Senior staff, conference, ten minutes. Julio I want you there. You too, Kron. Mister Trail, keep us on course, and you have the bridge."

"Aye, My Lord," Trail nodded.

STE

"Opinions?" Trip asked without fanfare.

"Depending upon it's design and construction materials, I believe two volleys of torpedoes, followed by full broadside arms will destroy the sphere, Captain," Kron stated firmly.

"I'd like to try and get enough of that signal they're passing to start an analysis," Givens requested. "For some reason, my gut tells me it might be useful, if not important, later on."

"Are these. . .sphere's, armed?" Dru'hak asked. "And are we sure they are unmanned?"

"We don't know, and no, not really," Trip answered. "The sphere that _Enterprise_ boarded was being used as a staging base for some pirates. They noted the sphere looked to be in disuse, even disrepair. They didn't spot any weapon emplacements, and didn't take any fire from the sphere itself."

"Should we try and get a team aboard to look for intel?" Hunter asked.

"I thought about it," Trip admitted. "But I'm reluctant to risk our people being caught inside. That almost happened to the away team from _Enterprise_ when they accidently activated part of the sphere's power supply."

"It might be worth the risk," Hunter stated simply.

"Not if it means the loss of anyone on this ship," Trip insisted, shaking his head. "No one on this ship is expendable." Everyone nodded their understanding that the subject was closed. His attitude was one of the reasons they followed him.

"Anyway, I don't believe there's anything on the sphere that we need to look for," Trip continued. "According to all the intel I have access to, the constructs are automated."

"I'll allow for some time to try and get your analysis, Julio, if for no other reason than just to have it. Whoever did this just might try again, after all. After that, Kron, we'll go with your plan, and see what happens. This might be the first real workout our new weapons systems have gotten. Be interesting to see how they do."

"Anything else?" he asked, looking about the table. He tended to keep these meetings short, and to the point. No one had anything else.

"Very well, Julio, let us know the minute we're in scanning range. We'll halt there, and wait for an hour. After that, we close and open fire."

"Aye, My Lord," every voice in the room replied in unison.

"Gimme a break," Trip murmured, shaking his head. "Dismissed." Everyone rose and left, save for Neera. He looked at her.

Neera had been behaving strangely of late, and he couldn't figure it out. She wasn't riding him as hard about things for one. That in itself was enough to cause him concern. Neera could be a very demanding woman.

"Somethin' on your mind?" he asked gently, leaning back.

"No, My Lord," Neera replied softly. "It is a good plan."

"Since when do you call me that in private, Neera?" he asked, confused. "Or at all, for that matter?"

"Things have. . .changed, My Lord," Neera replied evenly. "I. . .I must change with them," she added.

"What's that mean?" Trip demanded. "Tell me straight out what's botherin' you woman," he grinned. She did not return it.

"You are changing, My Lord," Neera told him gently. "Until that change is complete, I thought it best to be. . .more professional," she settled for saying.

"Am I a threat to you, Neera?" Trip asked, concerned.

"I do not believe this to be the case," Neera shook her head.

"You're startin' to sound like T'Pol," Trip grumped. He got the reaction he wanted, however, as Neera stiffened.

"How do you figure?" she demanded hotly.

"There's my girl," Trip grinned at her, triumphant. "Now that Neera's back, talk to me. What's wrong." She averted her eyes, and Trip's voice hardened.

"Don't look away from me," he ordered sternly. "I want an answer, Neera, and I'd prefer it come from you. Now."

She heard the steel in his voice, and knew she must comply. Taking a deep breath, she answered him.

"I cannot be a hindrance to you as you. . ._become_," she explained. "As you change, your desire for me may lessen, or disappear altogether. I must be prepared to accept that, and if I distance myself from you, now, then when, if, it were to happen, I would not be _hmmp_!"

She fell silent as Trip wrapped his arms around her, his lips crushed to her's. For a very long time they stayed that way, and soon her arms were snaking their way around him.

She reveled in the strength she felt radiating from her lover. Already he was must stronger than her, which meant he was much more powerful than anyone on the ship, including Hunter and his soldiers. It had been a very long time, indeed, since she had felt small and vulnerable in a man's arms.

She had missed it.

Finally Trip released the kiss, but not her. Trapped in his arms, she looked at his face, still only inches from her own.

"Does that alleviate your concerns about what might happen in the future?" he asked. She looked at him, hesitant to say anything.

"Neera, I love you," he said simply, yet there was power behind the statement that she could feel. "No matter what happens to me, through me, or about me, that's not going to change. My friend promised he would never hurt me. Giving you up would hurt. Worse than anything."

"I. . .My Lor. . .My Trip," she finished, breathless. "I love you as well. Thank you," she lay her head on his shoulder then, and sobbed in relief. He stroked her back, whispering to her as she allowed her pent up fears some release.

"Go to our quarters and rest until we go into action," he ordered gently. "And stop worrying over this. It will not happen. I won't _allow_ it to happen. Understand?" she nodded, wiping her tears away.

"Walk with me?" she asked hopefully.

"To the end of the universe."

STE

"It's a strange signal, m'Lord," Givens shrugged. "I've yet to make any sense of it, though I'm starting to catch repeats of certain phrases, for lack of a better word."

"Any chance of translatin' what they're sayin'?"

"In time, perhaps," Givens sighed. "Right now it's . . . well it's just a big ole mess. Sir." Frustration was evident in his voice.

"Very well," Trip hid his own frustration. "We'll work on it as we have time. Meanwhile, we've been on station for two hours. Do you have enough to do with?"

"I think so," Julio nodded. "I'd love to get a look inside. . . ."

"That's not going to happen," Trip replied firmly.

"I know. I've got what I need, seeing as we may never make any sense of it."

"Action stations, Kron," Trip ordered without hesitation. "Mister Trail, close to weapons range. Half-impulse."

"Aye, My Lord," the two answered as one. Klaxons wailed once again in the _Acheron_'s interior. The ship began to move toward it's target.

"Sir, three ships just appeared on sensors," Givens reported. "Type unknown as yet.

"Appeared?" Trip asked.

"Nothing there one second, next, well, there they are."

"Cloaking device?"

"The should have been a gradual sensor ghost for a vessel in de-cloaking. Not the case here. It's almost. . . ." Julio trailed off, thinking.

"Julio?" Trip pushed, just a little.

"It's almost like they . . . I want to say 'shifted' but that's. . .that's not really the word I want. Phased, maybe," he continued.

"The term you want is phase shift," Trip offered, leaning back, concerned. "And that's a technology that's. . .well, it's a pipe dream. I thought," he added. Well. . . .

"Hail'em, if ya can," he ordered.

"No reply, sir, on any freq."

Shields up, weapons are hot," Kron reported. "Orders?"

"Target the sphere, but reserve one weapon emplacement for our new friends, just in case," Trip ordered. "You may fire when in range," he added.

"Yes, My Lord."

_Acheron_ continued to close on it's target, and the three ships. . . .

"Bogey's are on intercept course, sir," Julio allowed some tension creep into his voice. "No known match to any ships in our database. No one's ever seen'em before. Drive systems, so far as we're reading them, also completely unknown, as is hull composition."

"Ah, the best part about being a soldier," Trip commented. "Goin' out, meetin' new cultures, an' killin'em." That got a round of chuckles from around the bridge.

"Mister Givens, I need a live mike, I reckon," Trip ordered, standing. "Record message for the ships, sending on all freqs."

"Mike hot, sir," Julio said seconds later.

"This is Captain. . .Grim, of the warship _Acheron_," Trip grinned. "You are on course to be in the way of my guns. We'll be openin' fire on that sphere in. . ." Kron flashed him five fingers, twice.

"Ten minutes, give'r take," Trip continued. "You really wanna be somewhere else when that happens. Don't get in mah way, an' we won't have a problem. _Acheron,_ out." Trip made a slashing motion, and Givens nodded.

"Good record, sir."

"Send it." Trip sat back down. "Kron, they don't move here in a minute, let's target one of'em. More'n one way to send a message, I guess."

STE

"We must change course," T'Pol informed the rest of the bridge crew. "There is an anomaly ahead that we will not be able to avoid without a significant course change."

"How much time will that cost us?" Archer asked, rubbing his face.

"Two additional days," T'Pol had the answer ready. "A small price to ensure the safety of the ship, Captian."

"Make it so, then," Archer nodded. "At this rate, maybe Trip will complete his mission and the Expanse will start returning to normal before we ever arrive at Azati Prime."

Frustration was growing aboard the _Enterprise_, but there was no help for it. They couldn't survive an encounter with a large anomaly.

_Enterprise_ altered course.

STE

"Still no response, m'Lord," Givens reported. Trip sighed, running his hands down his face.

"Kron?" he said finally, his soft voice hard and unyielding.

"My Lord."

"Kill'em." The order was simple, and direct.

And Kron was firing before the word had finished fully forming.

The lead ship disintegrated, exploding in a ball of fire and debris. The other two broke sharply to either side, and began to return fire. Unlike the encounter with the Klingon ships, or the Xindi, _Acheron_ felt these blows.

"Shields at eighty-two percent," Neera reported calmly. "Enemy ships to port and starboard, now aft of center line."

"Firing," Kron reported, and the Acheron's broadside armament fired. The starboard enemy vessel reeled away, heavily damaged and leaking atmosphere. Trip guessed it was atmosphere anyway. The port vessel evaded, and fired again.

"Shields at seventy-one percent," Neera reported again. "Whoever they are, their ships are fairly strong."

As if in protest, Kron fired again, striking the port side vessel as it maneuvered for another shot. The combined fire of five weapon emplacements on the Acheron's port side broke the ship's spine, though without the tooth jarring explosion of the first ship.

"Prepare an away team to board that ship," Trip ordered. "I want to see what they're shooting at us with. And if there's recoverable intel aboard her. Make sure to scan for lifesigns before they beam aboard."

"Last ship is on approach," Julio warned. "Sir, they're gaining speed. I think they intend to ram."

"Kron!" Trip called, but the Klingon was already working on it.

"Firing," he announced, and hit a series of switches.

The starboard and forward rail guns were able to bear on the ship, and opened fire. At the same time, torpedoes erupted from the forward and starboard tubes, racing across the distance to strike the smaller ship.

It was almost a perfect time on target, the gun rounds striking, then penetrating the hull two seconds before the torpedoes arrived.

There was no fire or explosion this time, but the ship disintegrated none-the-less, coming apart completely under the fire Kron put on them.

"Boarding party away," Neera called. "No resistance."

"Very well. Kron, hit the sphere with a volley. . .no, wait," Trip held up a hand. "Let's not do that, yet."

"Any reason?" Neera asked.

"No idea what might happen if and when we pop that thing," Trip shrugged. "It might be better to get what we can, and be ready to high tail it outta here 'fore we open that partic'lar box o' eggs."

Neera smiled to herself hearing Trip's accent reassert itself. Of late his speech had been more focused, more. . .proper English, than not. Whatever was happening to him was changing his speech habits as well. She wished, not for the first time, that she knew what changes were being made _within_ him.

"Jason is requesting assistance," Givens broke into her thoughts. "He says the tech over there is like nothing he's ever seen. He doesn't know what to take, or even touch."

"I think I'll. . . ." Trip started.

"_No_!" Five different voices cut him off. He almost growled, and Neera noticed something else new. Trip's blue eyes were almost. . .alight. Glowing ever so lightly.

"My Lord, you should remain aboard ship," Kron spoke first. "We are still in a possible combat situation. You're needed here."

"I agree," Trail offered, out of the blue. "We have to hold station, to protect the away team. Until they're back, running isn't an option.

"_I agree_," Tala's voice came across the com. "_I've already got a team assembled, My Lord. We're on our way to the transporter room_."

"They all offer wise advice, My Lord," Neera all but whispered.

"Fine," Trip almost swore. "Thought I was s'pose to be in charge 'round here," he muttered.

"Go ahead, Tala," Neera ordered, trying not to laugh.

"_We were going to anyway_," her light laughter filled the bridge.

Trip hmmphed, but said nothing. He had wanted to see it for himself.

"_We'll bring you back something, My Lord_," Tala teased. She knew that only she could get away with it, other than Neera.

"It better be somethin' _nice_," he ordered. "Go on, 'fore I change mah mind."

STE

"What'n the hell is that?" Trip asked. He was standing in the starboard general cargo bay, looking at parts and pieces that Tala had beamed back aboard.

"I think it's an energy weapon, but I have no idea what fuels it," Tala replied. "Not yet, anyway."

"Hey, that looks like it might be a computer core!" Julio enthused, pointing to another piece. "And part of a keyboard."

"Got it in one, Nerdboy," Tala nodded. She and Givens got along very well. "I thought that might interest you."

"You thought right," Julio nodded, already studying the 'pretty' as he called such things.

"Got something for you too, Kron," Tala added, pointing to a. . . .

"Did you beam a live enemy torpedo onto my ship, Tala?" Trip asked, his voice enough to make everyone shiver.

"Gimme a break," Tala shot back. Okay, almost everyone.

"Of course it's not armed," she went on. "We removed the fuel, and the warhead both. Only brought one, for study. No idea why they didn't use it on us."

"What about the guns they were using?" Kron asked.

"That's what I think the energy mount is," Tala nodded. "Thing is, there wasn't anything like a power source to it that I could find. Maybe it was destroyed, but. . . ."

"But there should have been something," Trip finished for her.

"Exactly," the little Andorian nodded firmly. "Thing is, sir, I couldn't find anything in the remnants of the ship that even looked like it was powering the gun. Maybe it's not what I think it is, I just don't know, yet," she shrugged.

"I. . .I think the database is intact!" Julio almost squealed.

"Anyone ever tell you, you sound like a schoolgirl when you do that?" Trip asked.

"Of course, My Lord," Julio nodded, never looking up. It was plain to everyone that he hadn't really heard what Trip had said.

Everyone laughed, making Julio look up, finally.

"What?" he demanded, causing more laughter.

"All right, let's get this stuff squared away. We'll have time to look at it in more detail on the way to our next target. Meanwhile, it's time we put the screws to that sphere."

STE

Fifteen minutes later, the ship was once again at Action Stations. Trip looked at the sphere on the screen, then nodded to Kron. The Klingon Tactical officer nodded in return, and pressed a button.

A pre-set volley of torpedoes shot away from _Acheron_'s hull, heading for the sphere. Ten seconds later, a second volley followed.

"Helm, forty-five degrees flat spin to starboard," Kron ordered, studying his instruments carefully.

"Forty-five degrees, flat spin, starboard, aye," Trail repeated, maneuvering _Acheron_ as ordered. Kron's eyes never left his screens as his hand reached out, and stabbed another button.

_Acheron_ bucked slightly as every gun that could be brought to bear, including the fore and port rail guns, opened fire. Kron maintained the fire for five full seconds, sending wave after wave of destruction toward the sphere to their front.

The torpedoes struck first, Kron having timed it well. Ten seconds later, the second volley struck, followed immediately by the first rail gun rounds, and the disruptor fire.

The sphere seemed to shimmer on the screen for a moment, then solidify again. Trip was about to order Kron to hit it again when Julio called out;

"Spike in the energy readings from the target!"

"How big a spike we talkin' about?" Trip asked.

"Huge," Julio replied. "I. . .whatever powered that thing, I think we knocked something loose!"

"Jerry, get us the hell outta here!" Trip ordered. "Come about, tail to the sphere, and go max warp the minute we can."

"Aye sir!" Trail was a flurry of action as he turned the _Acheron_'s aft to the sphere, and increased to full impulse.

"Distance to the sphere?" Trip asked.

"Seventy thousand kilometers, and increasing," Neera replied, bucking herself into her station.

"Ship Wide!" Trip ordered, doing the same.

"Attention all hands, this is the Captain! The sphere is about to blow, and it might get bumpy. All hand get strapped in!" The bridge crew was following suit.

"Energy levels are higher than anything I've ever. . .spike! _Spike_! There's another one! Sir, it's going critical!" Givens was in full schoolgirl mode.

"Jerry, I'd like warp at any time, now," Trip tried to sound calm.

"Still in the well, sir," Trail informed him. "Full impulse."

"Distance to edge of the well?" Trip asked.

"Another twenty-seven thousand kilometers, sir," Neera was still on the job.

"Here it goes!" Julio called out, and the screen shifted to rear viewing.

The sphere trembled, seemed to shimmer, then once again righted itself. That process repeated itself, though it was slower the second time.

"It's almost like it's trying to repair itself," someone whispered. Trip was surprised to discover that it was he that had spoken.

"Energy level is off the charts, sir," Julio said in awe. "I've never seen anything like this, My Lord. I've never _heard_ of anything. . . ."

The Sphere exploded.

"Mister Trail, warp would be excellent about now," Trip sounded far too calm. "High warp would be even more so," he added, watching the expanding cloud of energy and debris now following the _Acheron_ at near light speed.

"Ten seconds," Trail's voice sounded strained.

"I don't wanna rush you or anything, but I don't know that we got that long," Trip told his helmsman.

"Five seconds to Warp," Trail acted as if he hadn't heard his Captain. Trip watched the cloud of gases and debris gaining in the rear view.

"Any time now, Jerry, would be just outstanding," Trip urged, still sounding calm.

"Warp!" Trail almost shouted as _Acheron_ leapt to Warp 7.

Just as the wave of destruction caught up to the fleeing ship.

STE

"Damage?" Archer asked. _Enterprise_ had just been struck by an anomaly.

"None reported," T'Pol reported. "No casualties, either, Captain."

"That's good news," Archer allowed himself to relax slightly. "Hull integrity?"

"Ninety-eight percent and holding, Captain," Reed answered.

"We dodged a bullet then," Archer sighed. "Did we have any warning?"

"None," T'Pol replied. "Normally we can get a few seconds due to sensor reaction, but not in this instance. My theory is that the singularity was too small to attract the sensors. That would also explain the lack of damage. . . ." She trailed off, looking at her instrumentation. She turned then to look into her scope.

"T'Pol?" Archer asked.

"A moment, Captain," she said calmly, calibrating the scanner, then calibrating it again.

"T'Pol?"

"I am almost finished, Captain." She returned to her instrument panel, entering data, then back to the scope she went.

"T'Pol!"

"It seems that the thermobaric clouds are undergoing a disturbance of some kind. Also, Captain, the large anomaly that forced our current detour seems to be shrinking in size."

"Wh. . .how's that possible?" Archer asked, puzzled.

"I can only surmise that _Acheron_ was able to destroy the 'command' sphere," T'Pol raised The Eyebrow of Speculation. "There are no other explanations that would fit the facts we have at the moment."

Archer hated, _hated_, when she did that. He'd learned that when a Vulcan made a guess, they qualified as much as possible. The longer the qualifier, the bigger the guess.

"You don't really know, do you," he asked, not unkindly.

"No, I do not," T'Pol replied after a brief hesitation.

"Would it kill you, just once, to admit that?" he asked, grinning.

"I do not believe so," T'Pol did not grin back, but there might have been the slightest twitch at the corner of her mouth. Maybe.

Just a twitch, mind you.

"Any idea what this does to our travel time?" he got back on track.

"Not at present," the Vulcan replied. "Until the changes I am observing are more advanced, we would do well to proceed with our customary caution. According to Captain Tucker, the _Acheron_ should not yet be in range of the command sphere. If this reaction is not due to the accomplishment of their mission, then it may be temporary."

"Makes sense," Jon nodded. "All right, then, no change for now. Make sure we have someone monitoring the changes at all times. We might learn something valuable just from observing, even if it's a temporary change."

"Yes, Captain."


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"Damage report!" Trip asked, even as Jerry Trail struggled to regain control of the helm.

The expanding cloud of destruction had hit the _Acheron_ just as she went to warp. Systems all over the ship overloaded, and the bridge was on emergency lighting, the eerie blue lighting serving to make things even more . . . well, creepy.

"Warp engines are still online," Neera called. "Impulse engines may be damaged, waiting for Tala to report. Scans show aft weapons mount completely off line. Life support systems are fully functional. Damage aft on decks D, E, and F, but no breaches indicated."

"Weapons placements are on line save for aft guns and tube," Kron reported.

"Communications are up, but full of static," Julio added.

"Helm is sluggish, but manageable."

"_What the _hell_ is going on up there_?" Tala demanded. "_I've got conduits down all over, and fires in the impulse engine rooms! Three people down, I need medical and DC assistance_!"

Dru'hak nodded, rising to his feet. He snapped an order in his own language over his personal com unit, and started for the lift.

"Help on the way," Trip told her calmly. "Any idea of the damage to the impulse engines?" he asked.

"_Tell you what_," the snarky reply came back. "If _I can get the fires out, and_ if_ I can keep the ship from exploding in a ball of fire, _then_ I'll mosey on down and take a look. Until then, I got work to do!"_

"Smart ass," Trip muttered.

"_I heard that_!"

"Shut up and get to work!" Trip snapped, then made sure his com was off. "Smart ass," he muttered again, shaking his head.

"Damage reports are all in, it appears," Neera sighed. The ship was still moving, and under control.

"Have Jason and his people assist with DC work," Trip ordered. "Have Tragon-das' troops scour the ship. I want to make sure we didn't pick up any riders, and have them inspect for further damage as they go."

"Riders?" Kron asked, puzzled.

"Somethin' about that bunch makes my teeth hurt," Trip shook his head. "That whole thing was wrong, somehow. I don't know why I know that, but. . .well, I just do. Make sure none of'em managed to beam aboard undetected."

"They could not have beamed aboard with our shields raised," Kron objected.

"Shouldn't o' been able to phase into view, neither," Trip reminded him. "We just upset someone's apple cart in a fairly big way. Let's make sure they ain't returnin' the favor."

"Aye, m'Lord," Kron nodded, seeing the logic. "It will be done."

"Estimates on damage repair as soon as we get them, until then, I'll be in my ready room," Trip told Neera. She nodded, knowing what he meant. Trip crossed to his door and entered, taking a deep breath.

He sat down behind his desk, and leaned back, closing his eyes.

_I hate to bother you, but were you able to see what I saw_?

_Yes_, came the reply, weak but steady. _You must rest, soon_.

_When I'm sure my ship is safe_, Trip agreed. _Who were they? Were they the sphere builders._

_I believe so. They are. . .not from these parts, as you would say_. Trip could feel the humor his 'friend' was expressing, and grinned.

_Yeah, figured they were from up north_, he replied.

_Ah, yes. The term _'yank-ee' _applies there, correct_?

_Yep. Thank you. Please rest. I will not keep you._

_You must rest soon, as well_, came the reply. _I am the reason you are fatigued. It will be better, soon. I promise._

_All right_.

Trip opened his eyes to see Neera standing before him, PADD in hand.

"How long?" he asked.

"Three hours," she told him at once, knowing what he meant.

"Well, it's gettin' better," he said, then winced as a pain shot through his temple. "Well, easier, anyway," he amended.

"Damage reports," she offered him the PADD.

"Gimme the gist," he ordered, rubbing his temple.

"No hull breaches, though we have a 'weak spot' aft, in Tala's terms. Fire's are out. Impulse engine two is fine, Impulse one is down, and will be for at least twelve hours while Tala and her crew repair the damage. Some of it was shock damage, the rest due to the fire."

"We have all the parts she needs?" Trip asked, ever the engineer.

"We do," Neera nodded. "Aft gun mount is destroyed, and the aft torpedo tube heavily damaged. I have placed it's priority lowest for the moment. All other weapon mounts are in battery, and repair to the tube will require an EVA. Tala estimates time to all repairs completed thirty-six hours, excluding the aft launcher. We cannot repair the weapon's pod aft, as there is nothing to repair. We will need a dock yard for that."

"The ship has been scanned, and visually searched. We have no 'riders'. Hull integrity is at ninety seven percent. We are battle worthy." Neera completed the list.

"Thank you, darlin'," Trip smiled at her, and her heart sang once more.

"You are welcome, My Lord," she smiled. "Now, repairs are under way, and we have set course for Azati Prime. Please, allow me to escort you to the hospital. Doctor Grix can treat your headache, and give you something to help you sleep. You need rest."

"How do you know I gotta headache?" Trip demanded, but rose to follow her.

"It is my job to know," Neera grinned at him. They walked to the medical bay, where Delana Grix had just finished treating the last of the injured.

"You look a little peaked, Captain," Delana observed. "Put him on a bed," she ordered Neera.

"He has a stress induced headache. . . ." Neera began.

"And needs at least eight hours rest," Grix nodded, scanning Trip. "You've got to start taking better care of yourself, Captain," she chided.

"I guess I need a full time nurse," Trip chuckled. "Just for me."

"I'm _always_ available for a handsome man in uniform," Delana smiled, and Neera just shook her head. She and Delana had gradually become friends, and the Amazon no longer took offense to Grix's comments. She didn't really mean them, mostly. Neera was sure if she wasn't there, Grix would gladly bed her Captain, but. . . .

_But I am here_, she thought firmly. She pushed that aside as she saw Grix frown.

"What is it?" Grix looked at her.

"He. . .I need to check the scans I did before we left, but. . .his physiology seems to be changing. I need to look at what's caus. . . ." She stopped as Neera raised a hand.

"That will not be necessary," she explained. "We are aware of the changes, Doctor. There is nothing to be alarmed about." _I hope_.

"Some of the changes appear very. . . ." Again she was cut off.

"We are aware, Doctor," Neera repeated. Grix sighed.

"You know, you're starting to sound like a Vulcan," Delana noted, and Neera stiffened slightly.

"Any particular Vulcan?" she asked innocently.

"Aren't they all the same?" Delana shot back. "I mean, I've always thought there was a clone factory on Vulcan, and there were only a few dozen actual 'real' Vulcans, and the rest clones of them. No race of people can be so. . .so. . .similar." she settled for saying. Neera had to chuckle in spite of herself. She made a quick decision all her own, then.

"Doctor, what are your plans for when this mission ends?" she asked.

"Ends?" Delana asked. "I thought we were going after the Orions, next."

"So we are," Neera smiled. "Are you free right now, Delana? There's something I'd like to talk over with you."

"Yes, now that Prince Charming but Stubborn is asleep," Grix smiled down at a now peacefully asleep Trip. "There are times I could really hate you, Neera," she sighed.

"What?"

"For seeing him first," Delana sighed again, and brushed a spike of blond hair from Trip's face. "You have no idea. . .well, maybe you do, at that," she smiled up at her friend. "One day I might have that, too," she said wistfully.

"I hope you do, Delana," Neera said sincerely. "I hope you do."

"Anyway," Grix shoved the comment away. "You were wanting to talk?"

"I was," Neera agreed. "Let's go somewhere more private, if you don't mind. What I have to tell you really can't go any further." It was time, Neera decided, that their doctor knew the score.

The two women departed sick bay, leaving a peacefully sleeping Trip Tucker behind.

STE

Trip was awake and for a second wondered where he was. Then, slowly, he realized he was in sick bay.

Again.

"Why am I in sick bay?" he called. He heard footsteps and turned to see Delana walking toward him.

"Ah, awake at last," she teased, looking at his vitals.

"Why am I in sick bay?" Trip repeated. "Again," he added.

"You were exhausted, poor thing," Delana cooed. "You're all better now, though, thanks to your very own private doctor." Trip almost choked seeing the voluptuous woman leaning over him.

"Well, I 'pprciate it, Doc, really," he grinned nervously, glancing around.

"She's not here," Delana sighed. "She's on the bridge."

"Thanks again," Trip nodded, and stood.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"Thirteen hours," Grix informed him.

"Thir. . . ." Trip broke off, with a muted curse. "I can't be laying up that long when my ship is damaged!"

"The ship is in excellent hands, Captain," Delana smiled. "Now, I order you to go and take a long, hot shower, and get into some fresh clothes before you report to the bridge, or. . .OR," she emphasized as he headed for the nearest com panel, "check on the ship. It's either that, or I keep you here another eight hours." She held up a hypo spray.

"And I can't promise that you'll leave here with your virtue intact, if I have to watch you lie in the bed another eight hours," she added, a saucy look on her face.

"Riiiight," Trip nodded, slowly moving his hand away from the panel. "I'll just, uh, go and . . . shower, right? Yeah, I can do that."

"Excellent idea," Delana smiled. "Now, run along. Some of us grown-ups have work to do."

"Right!" Trip nodded, and suddenly took off like his hair, or the seat of his pants, were on fire.

"God, he is so _easy,_" Delana shook her head, chuckling as she went to check on the two injured crewmen still in sick bay.

STE

"Status report," Trip demanded as he walked onto the bridge, freshly showered and dressed in clean uniform.

"Impulse repairs are complete, we are capable of full impulse power," Neera reported business like, hiding her pleasure at how rested and relaxed he looked.

"Helm repairs are complete," the Andorian second helmsman reported. "All controls responsive and nominal."

"Coms are clear," Givens reported, not looking up. He was studying something intently.

"Tala, status," Trip commed.

"_We're nearly finished with shock damage repairs," she replied after a minute. "We'll need to stop, somewhere, and make sure of that weak spot on the rear hull. We may need to cut it away and replace it. Otherwise, we're just replacing and repairing conduits and relays. All systems are at ninety percent or better_."

"Estimated time to repair hull damage?" he asked.

"_Have to see it first_," he could almost hear her shrug. "_If we have to replace it, then the size and placement will be the determining factor. You know how it is, Chief. Until we know, we don't know_."

"Roger that. Let me know when you want to EV, and we'll find a shady spot."

"_Call it an hour_," she replied. "_I'll have a team assembled by then. We'll use a shuttle to inspect the area, and see what we have to do."_

"One hour it is," Trip confirmed, then shut off his com.

"Well done, people," he complimented. "We'll be back to battery soon. Julio, what's got you so interested?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. He felt pretty good, at the moment.

"I think we made a mistake, My Lord," Givens reported.

And just like that, Trip's good feeling was gone.

STE

"Wha'da'ya mean, it ain't their homeworld?" Trip demanded, and almost everyone winced at the accent. Trip was pissed. Never a good thing.

"It's their. . .well, I think Azati Prime is where they're building a larger version of the weapon they used against the Earth. It's a weapon's lab."

"Come again?" Trip's eyes narrowed.

"It's all I can figure, based on what I've been able to recover so far," Julio shrugged helplessly. "Their primary political power seems to be here," he indicated a point of light on the star chart taken from the captured Xindi data base. "New Xindus. But the Xindi population is spread across a wide area," he added. With the press of a button, over two dozen points turned red.

"Of _course _it is," Trip sighed, a hand rubbing down his face.

"Time to Azati Prime?" he asked.

"Just over two weeks," Neera replied.

"Estimated time to _Enterprise_'s arrival?" he asked, an uneasy feeling hitting him.

"Three weeks," she replied.

"What's our current speed?" he asked.

"Warp 6.5."

Trip calculated that. They had a few days, probably. But, there was still the repair to _Acheron_'s rear hull to deal with. Like it or not, he wouldn't take the ship into a viper's nest like that without the hull being repaired. He hit the com unit on the table in front of him.

"Tala, are you ready for the EV?"

"_Yes, My Lord_," she replied. "_I was about to com you_."

"Ten minutes," he ordered. "Have us drop out of warp, Neera, and take up station keeping."

"Aye, My Lord," she gave the necessary order.

"All right, I'm open to suggestions," he looked around the table at his senior staff. "If Julio's right, and they're building an even bigger weapon, we have to stop it. Period. That means destroy it."

"We'll have to find it, first," Dru'hak noted.

"Might not be that hard, if it's a lot more powerful than the probe," Hunter pointed out.

"We can't even make a good plan of attack until and unless we know where the damn thing is," Trip sighed in disgust. "Anything else in there, Julio?"

"There are veiled references to the sphere builders," Julio nodded. "I haven't been able to decipher them all, yet. There are also reference to something called the Unity Council. I think, from the way it's worded, this must be their ruling body."

"What's the status on the Expanse, since we destroyed the sphere?" Trip asked suddenly, irritated that he hadn't thought of it before now."

"It seems to be more unstable than before," Julio informed him. "I can't say it's actually deteriorated any, but. . .m'Lord, we know very little about the Expanse, so understand that I'm making informed guesses and estimations." Trip nodded.

"The composition of the Expanse, the clouds, seems to be changing. I'm reluctant to say that it's devolving, yet, but that does appear to be the case."

"Well, that's hopeful, anyway," Trip mused. "Okay. Out of curiosity, where's the nearest Xindi planet?"

"This one, sir," Julio highlighted a planet on the screen. "Three days at warp 6," he added. "Listed in the database we recovered as 'Aboreal Xindus'."

"Odd name," Trip mused.

"That's the second thing I think I've discovered," Julio informed him. Trip looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"Do you remember Ensign Sato's report that at least three completely different languages were being used by the Xindi flotilla we encountered?" Julio asked.

"Yeah," Trip nodded.

"Well, I think there's a very good reason for that," Julio continued. "If I'm reading their data base correctly, there are at least four different races of Xindi."

"Well, that's not. . .I mean, how many races of humans are there?"

"Not what I mean, sir," Julio shook his head. "These races are completely different. I'm posturing a lot, here, because of incomplete information, but I think we're talking about four different, entirely different, races. Completely separate evolutionary chains, physiology, language, everything."

"That's. . .nah," Trip shook his head. "That ain't possible."

"Why not?" Neera asked. "There are any number of life forms on Earth, all of which developed separately and independently of mankind."

"See any of'em in space lately?" Trip asked. "We're talkin' 'bout four different evolutionary events on the same. . . ." He frowned.

"_Are_ we talkin' about the same planet?" he asked, after a pause. "Are we makin' the assumption that they're all actually Xindi, and not just part o' some alliance?"

"I'm not sure, yet, sir," Julio admitted. "But all of them refer to themselves as Xindi of one kind or another. And despite their different languages, all of them have certain words in common, Xindi, New Xindus, and just plain Xindus, the latter always as a form of an oath, or perhaps a salute. Almost a memoriam."

"Data base give us anything on that?" Trip asked.

"Not that I've found so far," Julio shook his head. "I'm sorry, Trip," he said sadly. "I'm nowhere the linguist that Sato is. I'm lucky to have this much so far."

"It's more than we knew," Trip waved his apology away. "Once we make contact with _Enterprise_, she'll probably have it all worked out for us," he added with a smile.

"Okay," Trip decided to wrap things up. "I'm reluctant to divert away from my original plan until we're back in contact with _Enterprise_. If we're right about Azati Prime, then they're walkin' right into the hornet's nest. And that's our job," he added with a predatory grin.

"Unless I hear an objection, we're going to go on to Azati Prime as soon as hull repairs are complete. Anyone?"

He looked around the table, but no one objected.

"All right, then," he stood. "Tragon-Das, Jason, Dru-hak, I want you to look at what we've got on Azati Prime. By the time we get there, you need to have an assault plan worked out, in the event we need to go planetside to destroy the weapon."

"Sir," all three replied in unison.

"We'll have to play the rest by ear until we know more. That's all, for now." The group broke apart, and soon Trip was sitting alone, thinking about how complicated things had become.

"All I wanted was revenge," he said to himself. "I still want it," he admitted to the empty room. "But now, it seems like there's more at stake than simple revenge. Jon, I hope you can talk sense to them."

"But if you can't, then I'll kill'em all."

STE

"Five different races?" Archer was understandably skeptical.

"Six, actually, if you remember the Avian," Hoshi Sato reminded him. "All of them evolved on the planet Xindus, alongside but independently of each other."

"That's. . .that's incredible," Phlox said aloud. "Unheard of in science to my knowledge. Commander?" he looked to T'Pol.

"I must agree," she nodded, deep in thought. "Two races are rare enough. But six would be precedent setting."

"This just gets better and better," Archer muttered. "And now we're not sure that Azati Prime is even their homeworld?"

"It doesn't look like it," Hoshi sighed. "If what I have so far is anything to go by, it may be where they developed the probe, though. And they may be building another as well," she dropped the bomb causally.

"Say what?" Archer was stunned.

"They are definitely building something," Hoshi assured him. "And what ever it is, there's a lot of traffic in and out."

"Well that's just great," Archer sighed. "They're going to attack us again."

"The data does seem to support that conclusion," T'Pol nodded.

"How far out are we?"

"Another nineteen days," T'Pol replied.

"Malcolm, Hayes, the two of you start putting together an assault plan for Azati Prime, using whatever intel Hoshi can get you. I know it'll be incomplete, but have something bare bones ready when we arrive. I am _not_ letting these bastards have another run at Earth."

"Aye, Captain," Reed replied, and Hayes nodded.

"Meanwhile, I want a complete systems check throughout the ship. I don't want so much as a blown fuse on this ship when we arrive. I imagine we'll have plenty to keep us occupied once we're there."

"This will be a long nineteen days," he told them. "But I'm sure they'll be gone before we want them to. Let's get to work." As the conference room emptied, Archer stayed put, looking at the map Hoshi and T'Pol had put together.

"It may be you get your wish, after all, Trip."

STE

"I never thought I'd say this," Hayes muttered to Reed as they left the meeting, "but I hope your friend Tucker manages to get here on time."

"He'll be here," Mal said confidently.

"I don't like him," Hayes continued, "but his help would sure be nice."

"You just don't like it because his man stunned you," Reed fought to hide a grin. He'd have paid money to see that.

"He had no right to do that," Hayes grumbled. "I'm gonna kick that guy's ass, next time I see him."

"I seriously doubt it," Mal smirked. "And don't even think about laying a hand on Trip."

"You gonna fight his battles?" Hayes asked.

"You must be joking," Malcolm actually snorted. "He's got a ship full of people who would kill you for touching him. No, he'd probably do you himself."

"He's just an engineer," Hayes snorted.

"Keep thinking that, mate," Reed replied. "That's what got you stunned the first time, as I recall."

"Shut up."


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY

Trip maneuvered around Dru-hak with a speed and ease that, while no longer a surprise, still amazed the Klingon warrior. The Captain was becoming very adept with the _bat'leth_.

Dru-hak had not bothered to hide his surprise when Tucker had approached him about learning how to use the favored close combat weapon of the Klingon warrior.

"Why?" he had asked.

"I like'em," Trip shrugged. "There's just somethin'. . .it just feels right, in my hands." That was an appropriate answer, so far as Dru-hak was concerned, and he had begun the lessons that very day.

After three months, while far from an expert, he was well beyond where he should be.

"Soon you will need to train with the younger, stronger warriors," he told Trip, breathing a little heavy after a particularly spirited bout. "I would never allow anyone else to hear me say it, but your strength is superior to mine, My Lord. To say nothing of your speed and agility. I am too old to be trying to keep up with you," he chuckled.

"Ah," Trip waved it off. "You know more than any three o' them put together," he laughed. "My dad used to say that age and treachery will always triumph over youth and enthusiasm."

"A wise man," Dru-hak nodded.

"Yeah, he's pretty smart," Trip nodded, suddenly solemn.

"I have sensed you are troubled, My Lord, and have been for some time," the old Klingon ventured. "May I inquire as to why?"

Trip regarded the carefully asked question for a moment, taking a long drink of water. He decided to answer it. Dru-hak had earned that, and more.

"Here while back," he started, "I made a choice in life. One I'm convinced was the right one, but. . .it cost me. I'll probably wind up an outlaw among my own people, Dru-hak. I won't be able to go home, won't be able to see my family, or friends." He sighed, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel.

"I guess, lately, I've been givin' more thought to that sacrifice," he shrugged.

"Do you regret your choice?" the Klingon asked.

"No, but I regret havin' to make it," Trip admitted. "Had it to do again, I would," he added. "But the cost. . . .My family may wind up in danger on account o' me. I don't like that."

"I understand," the large warrior nodded. "Family, when all other things are gone, is the one thing that remains true, and constant. One may fight with his family, but if another interferes, that will unite the arguing members against a common foe."

"Yeah," Trip laughed. "We got the same sayin', too," he nodded. "Seems like we don't have so much difference between us after all, sometimes."

"Some things are universal, in my experience," Dru-Hak nodded. He straightened. "I believe that is enough for today. I have a meeting with my counter-parts soon. And I believe you have work as well. We shall continue tomorrow, if fate wills."

"Until then," Trip nodded. Taking his own weapon, Trip left the gym, and headed to his quarters. After a shower and fresh uniform, Trip decided to walk the ship, something he'd learned from Jon.

Another pang hit Trip then, thinking not only about Jonathon Archer, but his other friends aboard _Enterprise_. One day, they would all be old and grey, Lord willing, and he'd still be just as he was right now.

He didn't like to think about watching his friends grow old and die before him, while he remained unchanged. For the first time, he understood the sadness he sometimes say in the faces of the others. Especially Janos, but even Neera got that same look once in a while.

Suddenly, Trip was glad he could no longer have children. His parents had lost a daughter in the Xindi attack, and he had seen, almost felt, the sorrow they endured. A bone crushing, life stealing grief that only a parent could understand.

That, at least, was one pain he would never know. He wouldn't have to see his children born, live, and die, while he continued living.

_It need not be so_, he heard in his head. The symbiot had been silent for a long time. Hearing him, her,_ it_, in his head came as a surprise.

_I thought it was a simple fact_, Trip mentally shrugged.

_And so, normally, it is_, the symbiot agreed. _But for you, because of me, it need not be so. You can sire an offspring if you desire._

_I may can, but Neera can't_, Trip reminded him. _Whatever my other faults, I'm not much on infidelity. If I'm with someone that way, I'm _with_ them. Until the end._

_Yet another reason I have chosen _you_ to reveal myself to, after all this time_, he could almost feel the symbiant smile. _You are somewhat unique, Charles, among humanity. It is beings such as yourself who give me hope for your future._

_Thanks,_ Trip smiled mentally. _But it still leaves me where I started. But that's okay. It spares me at least one source of pain._

_Any child you fathered with a suitable mate would . . . inherit your more. . .unusual traits, Charles of Earth. That choice is still before you. When you decide, I will hear you._

And just like that, the conversation was over. Trip shook his head to clear it, and realized that he was standing in engineering, and that some of the crew were looking at him.

"It's all right," he told them, smiling wanly. "Go on about your work," he ordered, and everyone hurried to get back to what they were doing. Tala was watching him as he watched the crew return to work.

"You look perplexed, sir," she commented. Tala, for some reason, elicited a strong sense of leniency in Trip. Maybe, he thought absently, because she was so much like Elizabeth.

"I always look that way," he grinned. "How're things goin'?" he asked.

"We're at one hundred percent across the board, m'Lord," Tala said formally. "Our only down system if the aft gun port and torp tube, but that's gonna need yard time to fix."

"Yeah," Trip nodded. "We shouldn't need'em, I hope," he commented. "It's not like the other guns can't cover that quarter."

"True," she agreed. "Well, at any rate, we'll be able to give you all systems at full power when you need them."

"I know," Trip smiled again. "Thanks for all your hard work, by the way."

"It's my privilege sir," the little Andorian nodded.

STE

Neera watched as Trip read over the day's reports, his heart clearly not in his work.

"What's bothering you?" she asked gently.

"Nothin'," he replied automatically. "Just thinkin'."

"I can always tell when you're lying," she teased.

"Yeah, I know," he chuckled slightly. "Symbiot spoke to me today." Neera perked up at that.

"What did it tell you?" she asked.

"Told me that I could still father a child, or children, if I wished, with the right 'mate'." Neera's eyes widened at that.

"I told him thanks, but. . . ."

"But what?" she asked. "Trip, that is an amazing gift!"

"I know, but. . .Neera I'm really not the. . .I told you, my 'reputation' was a little overblown. Well, mostly," he amended. "When I'm with someone, I'm _with_ them. All the way. And you can't have children. So that. . .well, that's that," he smiled. Neera felt her eyes water, but hid it from him. Sometimes she wondered if he knew just how incredibly special he was.

"I would never stand in your way of having children, Charles," she said softly.

"I know that, but. . .I just couldn't do that to you," he smiled again. "Just how I was raised, I guess."

"I would not object to another sharing your bed, so long as. . .so long as I was allowed to aide in her selection," Neera said simply. He frowned, looking up at her.

"Trip, I am. . .I have been here a long time," she said gently. "I came from a different time than you, love, and. . .well, things that are so foreign to you are really not so for me. In my time, my _original_ time, it was not unusual for a man in your position to have multiple women. Wives, and concubines. There was no stigma attached to it, it simply was."

"Yeeeah, but I wasn't raised in that kinda time," he shook his head. "It'd feel . . . well, wrong. That's all."

"As I said, I would want to have an input," she reminded him. "I would assist you in picking a mate, and a mother, that would not cause. . .troubles between us. She would have to be someone we trusted, and could add to our family. Not in that way," she raised a hand. "But someone who would share her life with _us_."

"Be askin' for a lotta pain, someday," Trip warned darkly. "Get attached to someone like that, who'd not live a tithe as long."

"There are always trade offs," she nodded her agreement. "But. . .during her lifetime, we would welcome her, whoever she might be. Love and cherish her."

"That's a lot to think about," he waved her comments aside, though without disrespect. "We can always come back to it, once all this is behind us."

"Very well," Neera nodded, satisfied she had planted the seed, at least.

The two went back to reading their reports in companionable silence.

STE

"Sir, do you have a minute?" Hoshi asked from the door of Archer's ready room.

"Sure, Hoshi, c'mon in," he smiled. She entered, and took a seat.

"I. . .I may have made a mistake," she said slowly. "Well, not a mistake, but more like a. . .miscalculation, let's say."

"Can't be that bad, can it?" Jon tried to smile.

"No, but. . .it's left me uncertain about things," Hoshi admitted.

"Well, let's hear it," Jon leaned back. "Maybe I can help."

"I'm not entirely sure that all of the Xindi races are so. . .warlike as they seem," she admitted. "I've managed to translate almost all of the information from the database Trip seized, and, well. . .apparently two of the races, called Reptilians, and Insectoids, seem to be the most violent and warlike."

"Okay," Jon nodded. "That still leaves us with the problem that all of them were part of the attack on us."

"I. . .I don't think so, sir," Hoshi shook her head. "I think some of each race was involved, yes. But. . .I'm not sure that all the races even know what's happening, outside the fact that they know at least one Earth, or Human, ship is in the Expanse, and looking for them."

"Well, that's not unheard of," Jon mused. "I mean, we don't always know what's going on in Starfleet's head, after all. I'd venture the Vulcan's as a whole don't always know what's happening with the High Command, either."

"Exactly," Hoshi seemed to draw confidence from his statement.

"How does this help us, Hoshi?" he asked.

"I don't know, yet," she admitted. "Or if at all," she added. "But, it does seem that, if some of the Xindi people aren't aware, then they might not like what's happening."

Jon let that statement turn over in his head for a while.

"I can see where that might be the case," he said finally. "But the bottom line, Hoshi, is that they've attacked us once, and seem to be planning to do the same thing again. We have to prevent that, no matter what."

"I know," Hoshi nodded at once. "And that has to take precedent. I just wanted you to know that perhaps not _all_ of the Xindi know what's happening. And, it's possible that even some of those involved with the weapon, the attack, aren't really happy about it, either. From what I've gleaned so far, the Arboreals, Primates, and Aquatics are, for the most part, peaceful peoples. They may have been. . . ." She trailed off, looking for the right word.

"Coerced?" Jon suggested.

"No, not as such," she shook her head. "I was thinking more along the lines of manipulated. Misled. Lied to," she shrugged. "They may see what they're doing as purely defensive, protecting themselves and their own races."

"There is a great deal of distrust among them, from what I can get out of that database," she continued. "One section of their history shows that the extinct race, the Avians, died because a civil war destroyed Xindus. Old Xindus," she clarified. "The original home of all the races. The Avians lacked the technology to flee, and. . .well, the others were trying to save as many of their own people as possible."

"Do we know which race was instrumental in the destruction of their home?" Archer asked, eyes narrowing.

"Primarily the Reptilians, with the assistance, or at least support, of the Insectoids," she replied.

Archer digested that one slowly.

"Hoshi, I appreciate you bringing this to my attention," he said finally. "This might just be the opening we need to at least talk to someone before we start shooting."

"I don't think that will stop Trip, sir," Hoshi warned.

"I don't know," Archer admitted. "But he seemed to be. . .he at least is willing to _try_ things my way, he said. Maybe this will help."

"I hope so," Hoshi rose. "Because that ship. . . ."

"I know," Archer sighed. "_Acheron_ is a pure warship, Hoshi. And it's not his only one," he said without thinking.

"_What_?" the little Ensign almost yelled.

"I shouldn't have said that," Archer held up a hand. "It cannot leave this room, Hoshi, and that's an order," he said sternly.

"How. . .how many more. . . .?" She couldn't find words to finish.

"At least three," Jon admitted. "None are here, in the Expanse, aside from _Acheron_," he told her. "In fact, one is probably just outside our home system, on guard against another attack," he added.

"Really?" Hoshi seemed relieved by that.

"Yes," Archer nodded.

"I. . .sir, I have to admit, as horrible as the power of that ship is, it. . .I feel better knowing one of them is protecting Earth."

"I'm almost ashamed to say it, but, I feel the same way," Archer nodded. "If we fail, at least one of those. . .behemoths, will be standing between the Xindi and Earth."

Hoshi nodded, not knowing what else to say. The man she had known as Trip, the man she had secretly harbored a crush on, along with most every other woman aboard save T'Pol, and she wasn't sure about T'Pol these days, was not the man who commanded that terrible warship. Not anymore.

If the Xindi didn't listen to reason, _that_ man, _that_ Trip, who was as dark and dreadful as the old one had once been light and cheerful, would probably glass their planet, and then hunt down the survivors.

Hoshi left the room ready to cry for the loss of 'her' Trip Tucker.

STE

"Status report," Trip demanded as he walked onto the bridge.

"Sensors are clear, sir," Julio reported.

"Concur," Trail nodded, looking at his own instruments.

"Confirmed," Kron supported.

"Any com traffic?" Trip asked, taking his chair.

"Yes, sir, quite a bit of it, actually," Julio replied. "I'm working with the UT to try and listen in, but the computer's still chewing on some of the dialects. Especially the bells and clicks one."

"Really gotta find a better name for that one," Trip shook his head.

"Well, once we see one, we'll have more to work with," Julio grinned.

"Distance to Azati Prime?" Trip asked.

"Fifty million klicks, sir," Trail reported.

"Drop us out of warp, Jerry," Trip ordered. "No sense in announcing our arrival."

"Exiting warp," Trail nodded, and the ship reverted to impulse power.

"Passive scans only," Trip ordered. "One quarter impulse from here on, Jerry. Take us in a little closer."

"Aye, m'Lord," Trail nodded, and _Acheron_ began to glide easily and quietly through space. A giant, deadly predator, slowly easing in for the kill.

_If Jon doesn't make it, then I'll destroy this whole damn planet_.


	22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

_Enterprise_ drifted into the Azati Prime system slowly, her engines at minimal output. So far they had escaped detection, and Archer wanted to keep it that way, as long as possible.

"Hoshi, what have you got?" he asked from his chair.

"Lots of traffic, sir, but most of it is landing and destination traffic, at least what we're able to pick up. There is a lot of traffic coming and going," she added.

"Anything yet that we can make use of?"

"No, sir," Hoshi shook her head. "We are trying to 'map' the traffic. So far, at least fifty percent of the ingoing traffic is headed roughly here," he pointed to a spot on the surface of the watery planet. "There's a construct in the water that appears similar to the old oil platforms once used for offshore drilling on Earth."

"So maybe a way in, there, at least?" Archer asked.

"Possible, sir," Hoshi hesitated. "But the volume of traffic is very heavy. I don't think we'd ever get a vessel through their security."

"Keep watching," Archer nodded. "Malcolm, let's dial back the tactical alert. Condition two for now."

"Aye, sir," Reed nodded, and issued the appropriate orders. With Condition two set, all necessary stations were manned and ready by half the crew, while the other half had minimal time for meals, rest, and service work.

"We'll monitor for a while," Archer informed the bridge. "The more we can learn, the better things may go for us."

And there was still the possibility of making contact, and settling this peacefully.

STE

"Sir, I've got _Enterprise_," Julio said softly. "She's in system, but behind us. Call it ten million klicks."

"Surprised you could find'er," Trip observed.

"I programmed the sensors to always be looking for her, her warp signature, or engine profile," Givens shrugged. "I was afraid to place a beacon on her," he admitted. "Someone else might be able to get it."

"Good idea," Trip said absently. "Well, we'll just keep an eye out. . . ."

"I am detecting a number of Xindi ships moving in the general direction of _Enterprise_, My Lord," Kron cut in. "No way to tell, as yet, if the ships are actually aware of her presence, or simply patrolling."

"Does it look like any of the patrols we've seen so far?" Trip leaned forward.

"It is stronger than a standard patrol," Kron replied. "At least stronger than what we've seen so far."

"Time to reach the _Enterprise_?"

"At current speeds, one hour."

"Will they cross us to get there?"

"Yes, My Lord," Julio fielded that one, having been working. "They'll cross our bow nicely, on their present course."

"Well, I guess we're in a good spot, then," Trip smiled. "We'll just let them come to us. Kron, half-hour before they're in weapons range, we'll go to battle stations."

"My Lord."

Trip leaned back in his chair, returning to the PADD he'd been reading. He had always been able to compartmentalize in his mind, and that skill was still with him. Improved, in fact, much as everything else was these days. The slow realization that his life would now be measured in centuries instead of decades had also begun to teach him patience, something he'd rarely had. Now, however. . . .

He could wait.

STE

"How many?" Archer asked, concern clear in his voice.

"Nine," T'Pol answered for him. "Three different configurations."

"If I'm reading the language barrier right, we're looking at five Reptilian and three Insectoid destroyers, and one really large cruiser. I'm guessing, but I think the cruiser is Aquatic."

"How can you tell?" Archer asked.

"Language seems right," Hoshi shrugged. "If we could scan, I'd say there would be a large water presence on the ship."

"Okay, makes sense. I wonder where Trip is?" There was no way _Enterprise_ could handle so much.

"No sign of _Acheron_ in system," T'Pol intoned. "But that does not mean she is not here," she added.

"True," Archer nodded, remembering how _Acheron_ had more or less 'appeared' alongside them.

"Perhaps we should change our position, Captain," T'Pol recommended. "If they have not seen us, and this is a random patrol, they may well pass us by."

"If we do that, they might spot us anyway," Reed rebutted. "On the other hand, Captain, if they do know we're here, then allowing them to close is not a good tactic," he added.

"I concur," T'Pol nodded. "The only other recourse would be to try and exit the system along the same heading we entered. Doing so would allow us to perhaps re-enter the system in a better location."

"The patrols are pretty heavy, Commander," Travis spoke up from the helm. "I don't think we'll see anything better, to be honest. They're bound to have sensor platforms closer to the planet, if it's as important as we think it is."

"Let's observe a few more minutes," Archer ordered finally, after hearing all opinions. "They may change course."

Ten minutes later, the Xindi ships changed formation.

"That looks like an attack formation, sir," Reed commented. "Cruiser in the middle of an arrow, or chevron formation. I don't think there's any doubt they know we're here."

"Any sign of _Acheron_?" Archer asked.

"None, sir," Hoshi shook her head. "No coms, either. Sorry."

"Oh, that's all right," Archer managed a smile. "They're probably still dealing with the sphere. Meanwhile, though, here we are." He stood, pacing for a moment. When he stopped, he looked grim, but determined.

"Tactical Alert, Malcolm," he said with far more calm than he felt. "Hoshi, try to open a channel for me. Preferably open to everyone, but I especially want to try and talk to the possible Aquatic vessel. Maybe they will listen."

"Aye, sir," Hoshi nodded, and started working. Meanwhile the_ Enterprise _crew raced to stations, preparing for imminent battle.

Archer prayed it wouldn't come to that, since there was no way he could win, and knew it. For the first time, he regretted not letting Trip come here, instead.

But regrets were worthless. He was here, and had to try. This was the very reason that he had been ordered to bring his ship here to start with.

"I've got a channel open for a live broadcast, but no one has responded to our hails, Captain," Hoshi informed him.

"Very well," he stood. "Attention Xindi warships. This is Captain Jonathon Archer of the Earth Vessel _Enterprise_. We are here to ask why you chose to attack our planet, killing seven million innocent men, women and children. We are not a military vessel, though we are armed. We will fire only in defense of ourselves. I repeat, we will fire only in defense of ourselves. Please respond, and let us begin some kind of discussion between our peoples. Surely dialogue is preferable to war." He made a cutting motion, and Hoshi nodded.

"Well, that's it then," Archer exhaled. "We'll see what happens."

STE

"Well, shit," Trip sighed. "I really wish he hadn't done that."

"He think's he's alone, m'Lord," Julio pointed out. "He's trying to accomplish his mission, and keep his crew alive."

"I know," Trip said kindly. "Any response from the Xindi?"

"Traffic has picked up quite a bit, but. . .nothing I've heard so far indicates they're responding."

"Could you understand it if they did?" Trip asked. "I know it's been giving you a fit trying to figure out all their languages. Wonder how they even talk to each other," he snorted.

"I figure they use a translator, sir," Julio shrugged. "And I can understand some of it, plus the new stuff we're getting is helping the translator work the problem. . .hold on," he said, and pressed his ear piece to his head. "I don't know who it is, but someone's replying along the same frequency Archer used."

STE

"Sir, we're getting a message, I think from the Aquatics," Hoshi announced. "I. . .I'm working on it."

"Any visual?" he asked. Hoshi replied by pushing a button and something resembling an earth Manatee appeared, clearly inside an enclosure of water.

The whines and tones of the being's speech rolled over the airwaves, the speaker apparently aware there might be translation problems. Gradually, the translator began to make some sense of it.

". . .pproach our planet. . .open f. . .eclared enemy of. . .willing to hear yo. . . ."

"What was that last?" Archer demanded, moving around the bridge.

"The Council is Willing to hear you, although. . .disag. . .no, dissension, I think, among the members of the Council." She turned to look at her Captain.

"I think he means the Unity Council," she informed him.

"Captain, three Reptilian and two Insectoid ships have broken off from the formation, and are. . . ." T'Pol halted.

"Sir, I think those five ships are preparing to fire on the cruiser!" Reed finished for her, looking at his own scope. "The remainder are still on course for us!"

"Dissension, huh?"

STE

"On the cruiser?" Trip frowned.

"I'm almost certain," Juilo nodded, looking to Kron.

"I must agree, m'Lord," The Klingon tactical officer nodded. "The five ships are in an attack formation. Now _behind _the Cruiser."

"Lots of action on the planet, or at least around it," Jerry Trail announced suddenly. "Lot of ships headed our way, My Lord!"

"Battle Stations, Mister Kron, all weapons hot, shields up!" Trip snapped.

"Julio, time to let the _Enterprise_ know we're here!"

STE

"Sir, we're being hailed," Hoshi said, then shouted;

"It's _Acheron_!" Archer didn't blame her. He would have shouted himself, if he wasn't the Captain.

"On screen!" he snapped, and Trip appeared.

"Well, Jon, looks like you just started a civil war," Trip said, grinning. "What'cha gonna do now?"

"Hadn't quite worked that out yet, Trip," Jon tried to maintain the same calm his friend was showing. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Ah, well," Trip actually looked embarrassed. "Didn't figure you'd mind if we managed to get here a little early."

"You figured right," Jon laughed. "You destroy the sphere?"

"Yep," Trip nodded. "And three pretty odd little ships that was protectin' it. Strange little things, too. I'd say they ain't from around here. And I think they pretty much prove T'Pol's theory, too. But," he raised a hand, "reckon we can discuss that later. Right now, it looks like you got at least some of'em thinkin'. And at least some of the rest don't like that."

"I know," Jon nodded. "We may can survive the three still coming, but there's nothing we can do about the others. I don't know if that cruiser can take them all."

"Let me worry about that," Trip replied. "There's a lot more ships headed this way, right now. We can't separate the sheep from the goats yet, either." He leaned forward.

"Can Hoshi talk to them Manatee lookin' one's on that cruiser?"

"I can," Hoshi answered.

"Tell'em we're about to come to their aid, then," Trip instructed. "Ask'em nicely not to shoot at us, since my crew probably won't take kindly to it." Jon nodded to her, and Hoshi started trying to contact the Aquatic cruiser.

"Well, then," Trip leaned back. "Make sure and tell that cruiser we're doin' this on yer orders," he suggested to Jon. "Might make a difference, you get to talk to'em again."

"Thanks, Trip," Jon nodded. "But what about you?"

"Well, I built this thing to kill Xindi," Trip shrugged. "I'ma go kill me some Xindi. Talk to ya in a while. Try to stay outta trouble."

"You too, Trip." The screen went blank. He looked at Hoshi.

"They understand, and gave us their equivalent of thank you," she smiled.

"Then let's get ready to deal with our own problems."

STE

"Jerry, move us out. Kron, under no circumstances do we fire on that cruiser, even by accident. The others are fair game." He looked at his friend.

"Kill'em all."

"Yes, My Lord!" Kron was about as happy as Trip had ever seen him.

"Neera, all troops to stand by to repel boarders, and get a three man team up here for security."

"Already done," she said softly.

"Fire when ready, Kron," Trip ordered silently, then sat back to watch his crew work.

STE

The Aquatic ship was tough, but five on one was too much even for them. The Aquatic commander had taken the promise of help from the Earth ship politely, but their scan indicated that the vessel simply wasn't equipped to battle even the three ships bearing down on them, let alone assist his own vessel.

"We are taking fire," his second relayed, quite unnecessarily, but still her job.

"And so now we have come full circle, back to where we were," he told her sadly. "All guns to retu. . . ." He paused as one of the attacking ships blew apart suddenly.

"What. . . .?" Before he could finish, his sensor officer called to him.

"Sir, an unidentified ship, larger than ours, has opened fire on our attackers!"

"Our promised assistance," the commander mused. "Defend our vessel, Commander," the Captain order his second.

"All guns, fire only on our attackers as they bear!" the Commander ordered, moving gracefully to her own station. "Do not engage the Earth ships under any circumstances unless ordered otherwise! Open fire!"

The cruiser began to return fire with her own very impressive weaponry. The Aquatics were, for the most part, peace loving, and patient. They were also excellent engineers.

And they did not truly trust their Reptile and Insect brethren, either.

STE

"Reckon that got their attention," Trip sounded satisfied. "Stay at'em Kron."

The Klingon was in his element, now, and never bothered to respond. Every system he could bring to bear on any target was now firing, and the results were nothing short of amazing.

"We are taking fire, Trip," Neera said gently. "Shields holding, ninety-two percent."

"Okay," Trip acknowledged. He was far too calm to be in the middle of such a battle, and yet, no one was surprised.

He was, after all, Lord Grim. It had started as a joke, one of his own, but. . . .

_Grim_ described him well, Neera decided with a sigh.

"Manatee Cruiser now engaging," Julio reported.

"Y'know, I really should'a asked Hoshi what to call them," Trip mused aloud. "Remind me about that next time we talk to _Enterprise_, Julio."

"Will do, My Lord," Givens grinned broadly.

"Two ships destroyed, My Lord Grim!" Kron reported.

"Stay at'em," Trip nodded in approval. "We need to get this bunch cleared out so we can see what the rest want." He looked back to Julio.

"How's _Enterprise_ doin'?"

STE

_Enterprise_ was hanging in there, Archer thought with pride. One Insectoid and two Reptilian destroyers had borne down on them as Travis had put the ship into evasive action. Malcolm had been ready, and when the first ship came into range, he spoke.

"Now, Travis."

The Boomer had instantly changed the ship's attitude, and Malcolm pressed a button that contained a preset firing pattern. Enterprise's guns belched light, while her launchers spat out three volleys of torpedoes as quickly as they could fire.

The Insectoid ship withered under the fire, caught by surprise, and turned away, hull breached in at least three places, fire visible, and atmosphere leaking.

"Nice work, Malcolm!" Jon complimented.

"That one was easy meat," Reed replied with a grimace. "The others won't be so careless, sir."

STE

Aboard the Aquatic vessel, the Captain was starting to think that he and his crew might survive after all.

"One ship remaining," his Second informed him. Again it was unnecessary, but it was her job.

"Break off," he ordered. "Helm, set course for the Earth Vessel _Enterprise_."

"Sir?" the Second asked, while the Helmsman complied without comment.

"They have helped us," he replied. "We will help them. That ship cannot possibly survive against two Reptilian destroyers. We will show _our_ intent, and assist them."

"But we are still under. . . ." she halted as the remaining Reptilian ship broke apart under the fire of the unknown ship behind them.

"As I said, they have helped us," the Captain managed not to appear smug. "All guns will clear for action against forward targets. Fire when in range."

"Yes, sir," the Second nodded, her gills fluttering in submission.

STE

"Manatee Cruiser headed for _Enterprise_!" Julio almost shouted.

"What?"

"They're on. . ._firing_! Oh," Julio sounded subdued for a moment.

"Remaining attacker destroyed, My Lord," Kron reported.

"Well, done, my friend," Trip smiled.

"Manatee's are assisting _Enterprise_, sir," Julio sounded almost sheepish.

"Well, good," Trip smiled. "That means we can prepare for what's headed our way. Jerry, orient us dorsal to the oncoming. Kron, co-ordinate with him to bring as much firepower to bear as you can."

"Aye, sir."

"Trip, there are at least seventeen ships heading our way," Neera said softly, for his ears only.

"I see'em," he nodded.

"I don't know if we can. . . ."

"I do," he stopped her gently. " Status report?"

"Minor shock damage, no effect to essential systems," she admitted. "Shields are at seventy-two percent and building. Energy weapons are at sixty-three percent or higher, and building. All weapons on line." Trip punched his chair com.

"Tala!"

"_My Lord_?"

"I want you to standby to tap Warp Engine Two for weapons and shields, if needed. We're about to be in a firestorm sure enough. I need weapons and shields to be fully powered."

"_If we have to do it by hand, My Lord_," the little Andorian promised.

"Good girl," Trip smiled. "And you be careful."

"_I will, sir_," Tala replied, more gently. "_You as well_."

STE

"Aquatic cruiser is in firing range, sir," Hoshi announced, just as the massive cruiser opened fire on the farthest Reptilian ship.

"Well, we seem to have made at least one friend," Jon sighed in relief. _Enterprise_ rocked again.

"Damage report!" he snapped.

"Port phase cannon off line," Malcolm reported, still firing.

"Hull breach on C deck, port side, sections twenty-nine through thiry-two. Damage control party is on the way. Engineering reports a small fire, under control, and some shock damage. Critical systems are unaffected at this time," T'Pol, ever calm under fire, rolled the list off.

"Very well," Jon nodded. They were hurt, but could still fight. "Malcolm, see if you can finish that one off."

"Working on it," Reed replied tersely, firing again. He drew blood, but the Reptilians returned fire.

"Aquatics hailing," Hoshi called out.

"On screen," Jon replied. The translator worked faster this time.

"Wee will taake them from behiind, _Enterprise_," the Aquatic Captain informed him. "Bee waatchfuul for the remaaining Insectooid vesssell," he warned.

"Thank you," Archer nodded in reply. Just then Enterprise was rocked by weapons fire.

"Insectoid ship close aboard, starboard fore!" Travis called out, instantly pushing Enterprise into an evasive pattern.

"Malcolm we may have to. . . ." Archer broke off as he felt the hair on his arm rise.

"Captain, catch!" Reed called, and tossed him a small medallion. As Archer caught it, he disappeared from sight.

"Who did that!" Reed all but screamed.

STE

"See if you can raise. . . ."

"_Enterprise_ hailing," Julio interrupted.

"Oh, well," Trip looked surprised. "Good job," he chuckled. His chuckle broke off when he saw T'Pol's face, unusually tight with emotion.

"The Captain has been taken, transported off the ship," she said without fanfare. "We believe the Insectoid destroyer was responsible, but we cannot locate the Captain by scan."

"Trip," Reed came into view, "I tossed him a transponder just as he was beamed out, mate!" he said quickly. "Hoshi is sending you the frequency!" Trip looked at Julio, who working frantically.

"Got him!" he called. "He's. . .no, he's not," the hacker frowned. "I swear he was on that ship just a second. . .got him!" he called again. "He's. . . ."

"Julio," Trip said calmly. "One complete sentence, now. Where is he?" His voice was like ice, and several people shivered. Julio worked frantically for a moment, then slowly turned to face his Captain.

"He's on the planet, sir. He's below."

STE

"_Enterprise_, I need you to talk to the cruiser," Trip snapped. "I don't know who all is comin' to visit, an' I need to know who to shoot at." T'Pol nodded to Hoshi, who turned to her own console, fighting tears.

"T'Pol, _Acheron_ will stand with you," Trip told the Vulcan commander. "Neera will be in command. We're going to get Jon back."

"I do not know how that will be poss. . . ."

"Let me worry 'bout that," Trip almost hissed. Alarmed, Neera turned to look at him.

Trip's brow was. . .contorted. A solid, raised ridge across his forehead, now, and his jaw was distended.

"Cut visual!" she hissed at Givens, who instantly complied.

"Comma. . .Captain, Tucker, are you all right?" T'Pol's voice came through.

"We're fine," Neera called out. "The Captain is preparing to retrieve Archer. We will hold the line here. Let us know what the cruiser says." She made a cutting motion at Julio, then turned to Trip.

"Prepare an away team," his voice was almost demonic. "Hunter's team only," he added. "It's time we made a statement." He turned to Kron, who, for once, looked. . .unsettled.

"Do not let one ship pass," he ordered. "On your honor." Kron stiffened to his full height, his fist across his chest.

"It will be as you command, My Lord Grim," he promised. Trip turned next to Dru'hak, who also looked. . .disturbed.

"You will see to it that no enemy boards my ship and lives," he ordered, and again his voice. . .it closely resembled the noise that steam under pressure made when escaping.

Dru'hak likewise drew himself to his full height, saluting.

"On my Honor, My Lord," he said gravely. He turned to Neera finally.

"The ship is your's," he said simply. "Have Hunter and his men meet me at transporter one."

"You can't mean to go!" Neera hissed softly. "Not like this!"

"Can you think of a better time?" he asked, already heading for the lift. "As I said, it's time we make a statement."


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Jonathon Archer was in trouble.

One minute, he'd been on the bridge of _Enterprise_, the next he'd been on what he could only assume was the Insectoid destroyer.

As soon as he materialized, three insect looking beings attacked him. Throwing up one hand in an attempt to ward off the blows, he managed to slip the transponder Malcolm Reed had tossed him inside his jumpsuit's inside pocket.

The beating was short, but effective, and then he suddenly found himself on the floor of a strange room. Around him were beings that he tried to put names to, as he ran through the gamut of species of Xindi that Hoshi had identified.

Three Reptilians attacked him almost at once, kicking him anywhere they could land a foot. All Jon could do was cover his head, and hope for the best. He felt a large foot strike him in his left kidney, and yelled in pain. Another foot to his ankle, and he was pretty sure it was broken. Then his left hand, taking a blow meant for his head.

He could hear vague shouting, somewhere far away, and wondered if someone else was getting beat. He would have yelled again if he could, but a good kick to his sternum, despite his attempt to curl into a fetal position, had taken his wind. He heard another strange noise, and suddenly the beating stopped.

More dim shouting, this time different. Almost human. He sighed in defeat. They had captured more than just himself. Someone on his crew was being beaten as well. Struggling, he managed to raise himself up slightly, hoping to attract their attention again, and spare his crew member, whoever it was, the same treatment.

What he saw convinced him he had suffered a concussion. Or worse.

Men, and women he noted idly, in black uniforms were attacking the Reptilians. With a start he realized that one of them was Trip. He tried to call out, but couldn't get air into his lungs to manage it. He gasped for oxygen as he watched his friend, a man he'd known for more years than either would probably care to remember, take hold of a giant Reptilian soldier's head, twist it savagely, _and then rip it from the body it had been attached to._

_I must have been hit harder than I thought_, he decided. As he watched, Trip casually tossed the head aside, walking toward Archer as he did so. Trip knelt beside him, and Jon would forever swear that his friend was glowing, and. . . .

He felt Trip slap his chest, and looked down dumbly to see a transponder attacked to him.

"Now Tala!" Trip ordered. "Straight to sickbay!"

"Trip," Archer managed to gasp, "what happened to your hea. . . ."

And then he was gone.

STE

Trip's head snapped back, and he roared. Literally roared. Human vocal chords shouldn't have been able to make such a sound, but somehow they did.

The sound got the attention of everyone in the room. His own people snapped around in surprise, then shock, and not a little fear. Hunter shouted an order, and his team assembled behind Trip with speed hard for the Xindi to follow.

Their commander, their leader, was. . .alight. His features were distorted in a way they knew all to well, and from his mouth protruded a massive set of fangs. They had all seen something similar, indeed all were capable of something similar. But not like this.

And they were afraid.

If Trip's own people were afraid, the Xindi were horrified. None of them dared move, afraid to attract the demon's attention. The one thing they were sure of was that the being before them was a demon.

"My name," Trip said slowly, his voice sending a shudder into every living being in the chamber, "is Grim. I came here to destroy you and all your kind."

"The man you were beating when I arrived convinced me to spare you," he continued. "To let him reason with you, as sentient beings. There had to be a better way than war, he said."

"Explain to me, quickly, why I should spare you and your people the destruction you reaped upon _my_ people. If you fail, then you will die here, and now, and I will wipe your race from existence."

No one replied.

"_SPEAK_!" he roared again, and this time got a response.

"We knew this day was coming," one who looked near human offered. "We sought to destroy you before this time came. We. . .we failed."

"You know nothing," Trip hissed back. "We of Earth never heard of you before your cowardly attack. An attack that killed millions of men, women, and children who also knew nothing of you. You are but cowards, one and all."

"It was fore-told!" a being resembling an Earth ape shouted. "The Benefactors showed us!"

"And who are these. . .benefactors?" Trip asked. He appeared calm, but no one was fooled.

"The sphere builders," the speaker replied. "They know and can see what the future holds! They fore-told of the change! Even now, the space around us is evolving!"

"Not anymore," Trip replied. "If you had checked, you would know that the Spheres are gone. As are their builders. At least the ones who tried to stop me from destroying them."

"You lie!" the human appearing being accused, then shrank as Trip's angry gaze settled on him.

"I suggest you check for yourself," his gravelly voice shook the room. "The devastation you see here is of your own making," he told the assembled group. "When I destroy you, completely, it will be your own doing, not mine. When your people look to you in their last minutes and ask 'why', tell them it was because you were fools. When the Xindi name is spoken of in hushed tones in dark places, as a warning to others who wish to make war on Mankind, it will be _you_ who carry the blame."

He turned to look at his people. Hunter nodded. All was well. His men and women were covered in blood, but none of it was their own.

"A fine hunt, My Lord," was all he said.

"Wait!" a voice called, and Trip looked to see another humanoid rising, looking at him.

"Wait," he repeated. "Can you prove that. . . ."

"I need prove nothing," Trip cut him off. "I came here to destroy you, and the one man who might have stopped me was beaten at your hands. Your time has come."

"Had you listened to him, you would have lived," he added. "Had you listened, I would have let your people continue to exist. Now, he may be dead, and that I will not forgive. _Your end is at hand_." He didn't yell, or shout, but the words cut across the chamber like a knife.

Just then his communicator beeped. Without releasing the speaker's gaze, he took it from his uniform and passed it to Hunter. He spoke quietly, then touched Trip's shoulder.

"He lives," Hunter said simply. "He will continue to do so. Delana promises it."

Trip nodded without looking at him. His gaze moved from one face to the other, then to the tank behind them, where three more Manatee's were watching.

"We helped a ship full of your people," Trip said, "defend themselves against their kind," he pointed to a dead Reptilian. "I did that on the orders of the man you nearly killed. That is the kind of man you ordered beaten here, and would have killed."

"It was not the decision of the council to do such," one of the beings in the tank replied through a translator. "That was done at the orders of he whom you have already slain." The humanoid that had spoken earlier pointed to the headless body near Trip's feet.

"Then you should have better command of your people."

"It is not so easy as that," the 'ape' replied. "We have been at war with each other before. They are by far the most militant, the most warlike, of our peoples."

"Not my problem," Trip said simply. "It's your's."

"My Lord," Hunter said hesitantly. "Archer wishes to speak with you." Holding up his hand, he accepted the communicator that Hunter placed in his grip.

"Jon," he said tersely. Anger was still coursing through him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Trip," Archer's voice came through, hoarse and full of pain, but strong. "This a bad time?"

STE

"I will be watching you," Trip warned, venom dripping from his words. "My ship will remain in orbit. You will listen to what he has to say, and you will make your decision. If you make even one mistake, I will destroy this planet, and everyone on it. I will then hunt down the rest of your people, where ever they are, however long it takes, and I will destroy them where I find them."

"Just as you planned to do to us," he growled. "Talking to Archer is you last chance for survival. Remember that I _want_ to destroy you. I already have seven million reasons, _one of whom was my blood_. All I need is provocation." He paused.

"_I hope you give it to me."_

"We will speak to him in good faith," the humanoid promised.

"Hunter."

"My Lord." The soldier spoke into his communicator, and the team was beamed back aboard _Acheron_. The humanoid waited until they were gone before speaking.

"We have made a grave mistake," was all he said.

No one argued with him.

STE

Trip awoke in sick bay.

_Again_.

"Why am I in sick bay?" he asked, looking around. "_Again_?"

Delana leaned over him, smiling down.

"Hello, lover boy," she purred. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you did all this just to come see me." Trip swallowed hard as Delana's 'assets' rubbed him. There was simply no denying that Delana Grix was one damn fine looking woman, and just about as sexy as any woman he'd ever seen, and that included Neera he was ashamed to even think.

"Well, Doc, you're really purty to look at, that's all," he managed a smile, and Delana felt her heart skip a beat.

"You can get up, _if_ you can get up," she sighed, standing back. "You passed out on the beam-up. You've been here about thirty minutes. The ship is fine, fighting is halted for now, no major casualties, and Enterprise is being repaired with assistance of our own people," she cited it all in one breath.

"Am I here that often?" Trip asked, sitting up, though still slightly woozy.

"I'm afraid so," she sighed again. "I honestly don't know what you did before you had me," she added.

"I had Phlox," Trip shrugged. "I definitely traded up," he added, chuckling.

"You have no idea," Delana replied saucily. Trip averted his gaze, blushing at the thoughts in his head.

"Don't be ashamed," Delana said softly. "If it weren't for Neera, I'd tear your clothes off right here."

"Delana, if it wasn't for her, I'd let you," he replied honestly. "What about Jon?" he asked. "Captain Archer, I mean?"

"Considering the beating he took, he's in remarkably good shape," Delana informed him. "Numerous broken bones, and a bit of internal bleeding which I've already repaired. He's sedated, right now, for the pain. How he managed to stay conscious enough to talk to you, I'll never know," she admitted.

"He's pretty tough," Trip chuckled. "He'll be okay?"

"I promise," she smiled.

"Thank you, Delana." He stood, testing his balance, finding it good. "I need to go and . . . ."

"Check on things, yes, I know," she waved. "I'm sure I'll see you soon. Go, before I lose my self control," she taunted.

He went. Trip headed straight to the bridge.

"Report?" he asked, walking onto the bridge.

"We are at peace, for the moment," Neera told him, her voice calm. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he smiled. "Honest," he added, at her look. "Delana actually gave me a pretty good run down. Seems I'm there often enough, she knows what all I'm going to ask when I wake up," he chuckled. Neera looked at him thoughtfully at that.

"You need to rest," she told him softly. "You are exhausted, and your symbiot will need rest as well. You are still very young to our ways."

"Okay," he said simply. That he didn't argue told her how tired he was. "I'll be in our quarters." She watched him go, thinking. Finally, she stood.

"Mister Aikawa, you have the bridge," she informed Kron's senior assistant. "Call me at once if anything changes."

"Aye, ma'am," the man nodded. Neera left the bridge, walking slowly toward sick bay. When she arrived, she found Delana discussing Archer's condition with Phlox via vidcom.

"He'll be fine, Phlox," Delana said to the Denobulan's image. "He's sedated, and I've sent you all his file. Once you're squared away, you can send a shuttle for him. I understand we aren't going anywhere soon."

"That is my understanding as well," Phlox smiled. "Once again I must thank you, Delana, for looking out for my patients," he added.

"I'm happy to do so," she nodded. "If there's any change, I'll notify you at once. If you need assistance, don't hesitate to call me."

"I will. Good-bye for now." The image disappeared, and Grix sighed.

"Delana," Neera said softly. Delana didn't start, but simply turned.

"He's fine, Neera," Delana told her. "I think the transporter knocked him out. He was uninjured."

"He's exhausted," Neera nodded. "I've sent him to bed."

"Alone?" the doctor's eyebrow rose.

"Yes," Neera laughed.

"You better put a guard on him, or our friendship may suffer," Delana warned with a smile.

"That's actually what I came to talk to you about," Neera caught the woman off guard.

"Huh?"

Neera had to smile at the look on the normally composed Betazoid woman's face.

"Let's go have a cup of coffee," Neera told her. "There's. . .well, there's something I need to talk to you about."

STE

"Are you. . .you can't be serious," Delana's eyes were wide.

"I am completely serious," Neera nodded. "The question is, are you willing?"

"I. . .I don't. . .I don't know," the stunned woman said honestly. "You just offered to _share_ Trip with me. Like, forever, and stuff."

"Yes," Neera smiled. "Don't look so scandalized," she chided.

"I'm not in any way scandalized," Delana replied. "Similar arrangements are not uncommon among my own people. I just. . .well, you don't seem like the _sharing_ type."

"Delana, you know that we, that some of us, are. . .different."

"I'd say that's a classic understatement."

"Well, among us, Trip is still more different," Neera explained. "You are aware of the symbiot we carry." Delana nodded. A similar conversation between them, what seemed like years ago now, had brought her up to speed. Neera had felt she needed to know, as their physician.

"His symbiot is sentient," Neera informed her softly.

"What?" the doctor almost stood at that, so surprised was she.

"It is. . .it is so rare, happens to so few, that we thought it a myth," Neera told her. "All of this must stay right here, at this table," she added. "It's one of the reasons that Trip is so powerful. And he will grow ever more powerful, as time goes by."

"Well, that must be odd," Delana offered, finally. "Sharing your body with another sentient being."

"He has not complained," Neera shrugged. "I admit, I'm surprised at how well he's taken it. But there is another advantage to this. . .event," Neera struggled to find the proper word.

"You remember that I told you, because of the symbiot, we are incapable of having children. Any of us."

"Yes."

"Trip can father a child," Neera dropped the bomb gracefully.

"Neera, that's wonderful!" Delana caught herself before leaping to hug her friend. "I'm so happy for you!"

"I cannot bear his child, Delana," Neera shook her head. "Trip may be special, but I am not."

"Oh, Neera, I'm so . . . wait," Delana was brought up short. "Is this what brought you to me like this?"

"Yes," Neera admitted. "In my time, long ago, it was not unusual for a man in his position to have more than one wife. Or a wife and more than one concubine. Thus, I do not find the idea so strange. But. . . ." Neera trailed off for a moment, looking for the right words.

"You want me to be an _incubator_?" Delana asked, on the verge of anger suddenly.

"What? No!" Neera looked stunned. "No, I'm talking. . .I meant that you, we, would be a family," Neera managed to blurt out. "We would be. . .equals. I could never share him with just anyone," Neera added. "And honestly, you are the only person I could consider. I know he's attracted to you, and you are to him. We've gotten to know each other fairly well the last few months, and I. . .I trust you. I love you. You've become one of the closest friends I've ever had," Neera admitted. "I already think of you like a sister. This is just one more step."

"That's a helluva step, 'sister'," Delana was calm again, now.

"I would never deny him a child," Neera shrugged. "And you can give him one. And you love him, probably as much as I do. You would never betray him, never hurt him, and always be good to him. I know that, here," she placed an open hand above her heart. "It just seemed like a natural thing. To ask you."

"Wow," Delana mused aloud. "I won't deny it. I do love him," Delana said. "I think since I met him," she admitted. "And yes, I'm very fertile," she almost giggled. "But. . .have you even discussed this with him?"

"No," Neera shook her head. "Unless you agreed, there was no point," she shrugged. "I hoped you would be willing, but I couldn't be sure. It's not a small thing," the amazon admitted.

"No, I'd say not," Delana nodded. "I. . .I can't tell you how much it means to me that you would even ask me," the doctor admitted. "But. . .Neera, are you sure? I mean absolutely sure? Because if you're not, then it's better we forget the whole thing, right now. I. . .I can't j. . .it would have to be a _real_ sharing. I can't just be his. . .fling. Or his baby maker."

"He could never do something like that," Neera shook her head. "It's not in him. It would have to be all or nothing, as you say."

"I'm at a loss for words," Delana admitted. "And that's no small feat, either," she added. "I need to think about this," she said honestly. "And we'll have to talk to Trip about this at some point, too. But. . .but not until I can wrap my head around it."

"The one thing we have, is time," Neera nodded in understanding.

STE

Archer came awake slowly, gradually acclimating himself to his surroundings. He realized that he wasn't on Enterprise, but was pretty sure he was in a medical. . . .

"I'm on _Acheron_," he murmured aloud.

"That you are!" a bubbly female voice replied, and he looked toward the foot of his bed to see. . . .

"Doctor Grix," he smiled, or tried to, until it hurt him. "I have to admit I'm very glad to see you."

"I'm sure you say that to all the girls," Delana winked. "I'm glad to see you awake," she replied. "I would ask how you feel, but I'm pretty sure you feel like hell."

"Like I was hit by a bull, with friends following him," Jon smiled. "I vaguely remember seeing Trip and some of your crew, and then. . .I think I spoke to him over a com?"

"You did, and I have to say, Captain, that impressed the hell out of me," she said seriously. "You're a lot tougher than you look. At least than you looked when you got here."

"That bad, huh?"

"Pretty bad," Delana admitted. "But, you're all fixed up, now," she smiled. "You'll still hurt for a while, and you'll need a cane to help you get around for a week, maybe two. Otherwise, you'll be good as new in a few weeks."

"Do you remember what I said to Trip?" Jon asked.

"You asked him not to kill all the Xindi," she said simply.

"Ah, did that. . .did it work?" He wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

"As a matter of fact, it did," she nodded. "You must really be a good friend of his, Captain. I was pretty sure we were about to destroy the entire planet."

"I was afraid of that," Jon nodded. "I'm glad he didn't."

"He should be here any minute," she smiled again. "Captain Tucker wanted to know the minute, and I quote, 'his sorry ass is awake'. Unquote."

"That sounds like him," Archer chuckled. "Can I get some water?"

"Sure," she retrieved a bottle of water for him. Just as he drained it, Trip arrived, freshly shaved, showered, and wearing a uniform that wasn't stained with blood.

"Well, you look like shit," he said flatly, and Archer almost choked on the last drink of water.

"Trip, that's not nice!" Delana slapped him playfully. "He's had a hard day or two, you know."

"Ah, he's a tough old codger," Trip waved her complaints away. "How ya feelin', Cap'n?" he asked, more seriously.

"Rode hard and put up wet," Jon admitted. "How are you?"

"Fit as a fiddle," Trip smiled. "Delana says you'll be good as new in no time."

"And I appreciate her efforts in that regard," Jon nodded. "She tells me there is still a Xindi race to talk to?"

"For the moment," Trip's look darkened. "I've made it clear that they live at my sufferance, and I don't suffer much, right now," he added. "I think they'll be glad to sit down and speak with you, once you feel up to it."

"You think so?"

"Oh, I can pretty much guarantee it," Trip nodded. "And they'll probably be a lot nicer to you, this time."

"That would be nice," Jon chuckled. "Doctor, I don't suppose you can give us a minute?"

"Of course," she nodded. "But if you have any problems please call me at once. I promised Phlox he can have you back sometime today." She walked away, out of earshot, and Jon waited until she was well away before looking at Trip.

"What happened?"

"Well, they beamed ya over to an Insectoid ship, beat on ya a bit, then beamed ya down to the planet so they could beat on ya some more," Trip said bluntly. "Then I went down with some o' my marines, and beat on them a while in return."

"You know, I was pretty bad off when you got there, I think," Jon said after a minute. "For just a second, I thought you were. . .well, glowing."

"Probably just the beam in," Trip nodded. "Thanks to Mal, we beamed in right on top o' ya. Good thing, too."

"Yeah, I don't think I could have taken much more. Funny thing, though," Jon looked at him. "I could have sworn I saw you tear the head off one of those Reptilians."

"Jon, you took a pretty bad beatin', lot of it to the head," Trip replied evenly. "I'm surprised that's all you saw, to be honest. You. . .I thought you was gone."

"I did too, for a minute," Jon nodded. "Were you wearing a helmet?"

"Nah," Trip shook his head. "Why?"

"Well, it just. . .your face looked. . .wrong, somehow," Jon admitted. "I figured it was some kind of protective gear."

"Just a knock on the noggin'," Trip shook his head, grinning. "Speakin' o' which, I know you just woke up, but. . .like it or not, you're gonna have to talk to those pecker heads pretty soon. There's some, ah, resentment among some o' their folks, still. Pretty much expect some Reptilian or Insectoid ships to show up anytime now. One's that was here ran away when that Council o' there's issued a stand down order, but I figure they'll be back."

"Can we. . .can _you_, stop them?"

"Imagine so," Trip nodded. "Them Aquatics has got about a dozen o' them cruisers o' there's up here, and the other two races have another dozen between'em."

"How is _Enterprise_?" Jon asked suddenly, guilty that he hadn't already done so.

"In good order," Trip promised. "Got a crew over there helpin', and all systems are functioning. Hess says impulse is on line, and she can give you warp 3.5 at a minimum. Few more hours, and I'm sure that'll go up, some. Weapons are on line, except for the port phase cannon, which Malcolm is workin' on it, right now."

"Casualties?" Jon dreaded the answer.

"Three dead, thirteen wounded," Trip said gently. "Don't know who, really. Sorry."

"What about your ship? Your people?"

"We took a little shock damage, had about a dozen injuries," Trip shrugged. "We're good to go."

"If you hadn't been here, Trip, I don't know how things might have gone," Jonathon Archer admitted.

"_You_ hadn't been here, I know _exactly_ how it would'a gone," Trip shrugged. "It's better you're here," he admitted. "I can get you a screen over to T'Pol, you want it," he offered. "Probably be good for them to see ya on the mend."

"I'd appreciate that."

STE

"The Xindi Council is calling every half-hour for updates on your condition," T'Pol informed him, after reporting on the ship and crew. "They seem most anxious to speak with you, Captain."

"Well, it'll have to be by vidcom for now," Archer winced as he shifted. "Doctor Grix says I can't make the trip down there for a few days."

"I believe they would welcome the opportunity to speak with you in any way possible," T'Pol replied. "As I said, they are most anxious. In fact, I do not believe that 'fearful' is in any way overstating."

"Well, Trip might have. . .influenced that a bit," Jon admitted. "He was pretty mad by the time he found me."

"Furious would be a more apt description, I believe," T'Pol intoned cooly. "He has become a force to be reckoned with, Captain."

"Yeah, he has," Jon nodded. He was worried about Trip, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it. "I'll see if I can get a ride home, in a bit," he promised. "I'm supposed to be able to get back sometime today."

"We await your return."

STE

"My name is Keras," the Xindi Primate spoke solemnly. "I have been appointed spokesman in this matter by what remains of the Unity Council."

"I'm Jonathon Archer, Captain of the _Enterprise_," Archer nodded in reply. He was sitting in the conference room on _Enterprise_, several monitors around him. Hoshi sat next to him in case he needed an interpreter. T'Pol was present as well, but had deigned not to participate unless requested. She wanted to observe.

"I must firstly apologize for your harsh treatment at the hands of our Reptilian members," Keras said evenly. "We are supposed to be ruled by the Council, an aggregate of all species of the Xindi peoples. I fear that time has ended, however."

"I'm sorry for your troubles," Jon replied graciously. "And I do not hold you responsible for their actions," he added.

"You, perhaps, do not, but the one called Grim, the Destroyer, _does_," Keras said evenly. "We are relieved that you are mending."

"I believe that to be a reference to Captain Tucker," T'Pol whispered into Archer's ear at his look of confusion. "He is referred to as Lord Grim by many of his crew." Archer nodded in understanding, as a few more blocks fell into place around him.

"He is my friend, of many years. He showed great restraint, for which I am grateful. I want to speak with you concerning the relationship between our two peoples," Archer replied to Keras. "Earth desires war with no one, and that includes the Xindi. Even after the damage you have done, and the massive loss of life, we would have peace between us, if it's possible."

"We believe that to be the best for our own people's as well," Keras agreed hastily. "As a show of good faith, I have been authorized to tell you that another weapon, far more powerful than the first, is in it's final construction phase. Here, beneath the waters of this planet."

Archer didn't respond at once, wondering if that was a threat, or an admission of guilt, or, as Keras had said, simply a show of good faith on their part.

"_Bridge to Captain Archer_!" Reed's voice boomed across the room. Jon frowned at that. Reed knew he was busy. . . .

"_Captain to the bridge, immediately_!" Reed's voice shot through again, this time sounding. . .rattled. Klaxons began blaring throughout the ship.

"I must attend to something, Keras. I will be a moment," Archer excused himself, and had Hoshi cut the mike.

"Find out what the hell is going on, please," he said to T'Pol, who nodded, and moved to the com unit. Before she reached it, Reed's voice boomed one more time.

"_Captain, for God's sake, I need you on the bridge! _Acheron_ has powered her weapons, and is locked onto the planet_!"

"Oh, shit," Hoshi said into the silence. Then all three hurried to the bridge as fast as they could go.


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

"Trip, don't," Neera pleaded. "Wait until you hear from Archer."

"He ain't gonna have nothin' to say I wanna hear," Trip said calmly. "I warned'em, straight out, what would happen. They could'a already destroyed the damn thing, and they ain't. So, I'll do it for'em."

"You'll kill everyone on that planet!" Neera objected.

"Yeah, too bad," Trip shrugged.

"Sir, I've found the weapon," Julio reported quietly. "It's just over one thousand kilometers off the shore of the northern part of the Western Hemisphere. The depth is approximately five hundred feet."

"Kron?" Trip looked at the Klingon.

"We can strike the weapon, sir," Kron nodded firmly. "It will require the, ah, _special_, ordinance, however. I _would_ like permission to try torpedoes first," he added.

"No," Trip refused. "We'll need them to finish off the Xindi fleet. Once we attack the planet, they'll prob'ly swarm around us. Make preparations for bombardment, Kron."

"At once, My Lord," he saluted, and left the bridge. He, at least, had no problems with Trip's orders.

"My Lord," Julio said evenly. "The collateral damage will be significant. The word devastating comes to mind."

"Ever see the Trench, Julio?" Trip asked, voice conversational.

"No, My Lord," the techy admitted.

"It's pretty devastating," Trip shrugged. "Pay back's a bitch."

Neera rose from her station, walking to his side.

"I will not participate in this," she said, voice brittle.

"You don't have to," Trip nodded, his voice kind. "But I will not leave this undone. I should have fried the planet in the first place. If I had, we'd be on our way home."

"No, you'd be hunting the rest of the Xindi into the ground," Neera snapped back.

"True," he sighed. "And I still will. I'll ask _Enterprise_ to give you, and anyone else who wants, a ride home. We'll be busy here for a while, I imagine."

"I am begging you," Neera tried again. "Don't do this."

"I won't leave them free to attack us again," Trip said thickly. "I'm only sorry that it will cost me so much," he looked up at her. "But I don't blame you."

"This isn't you," Neera insisted. "This is the symbiot, trying to give you what he thinks you want. You don't have to do this. If they launch the weapon, we can destroy it."

"I don't know that for sure," Trip shook his head. "That ape said this one was much larger, and more powerful. _Acheron_ might not be enough. Not alone. This is the only way to be sure."

"I'm. . .sorry," he settled for saying, then looked back to the screen.

"So am I," she said, so softly that only he could hear. Before she could leave his side, Julio straightened.

"_Enterprise_ hailing!" he called.

"Ignore'em," Trip said casually.

"No," Neera said firmly. "Don't you _dare_ ignore him! Not after all he went through. He deserves to be heard!" Trip looked at her, wanting to glare, but unable to. Finally, he nodded.

"Very well," he said calmly. "On screen."

STE

"What in the hell is going on?" Archer demanded as he hobbled onto the bridge.

"_Acheron_ just powered up weapons and shields, and painted the planet. They've run a scan, and now they're re-orienting!" Reed barked. "I. . .he's going to attack." He looked up.

"Nothing happened, Captain. There was no change in the disposition of the Xindi ships, no scans or targeting, no outside threats, nothing. One minute we're all just dandy, and the next minute, _Acheron_'s. . . ."

"He had to be listening," Hoshi said softly. "He must have heard Keras tell you about the other weapon."

"_Other_ weapon?" Reed perked up at that. "_What_ other weapon?"

"Never mind that, now," Archer waved the question aside. "Hoshi, I need to talk to Trip right now, and I don't care how you do it!"

"Yes, Captain!" She ran to her console, the ensign currently sitting there hastily abandoning the position. She worked frantically.

"They're receiving our hails, but. . . ." She shook her head, trembling.

"Keep trying. Malcolm, prepare to target the _Acheron_," Archer snapped.

"Sir?" Reed looked up, stunned.

"You heard me, mister!" Archer almost yelled. "I need to get his attention!"

"Sir, you do _not_ want to get his attention that way," Reed replied, his voice urgent. "If you target him, he. . .sir, he might well turn his guns on _us_!"

"He'd never do it," Archer shook his head.

"Like you would never target his vessel?" T'Pol asked. "Sir, I submit that Lieutenant Commander Reed's advice is sound. The man who commands that ship is not the man we once knew as our chief engineer."

"Yes, he is," Archer insisted. "He'll listen."

"_Not if you target him_!" Reed almost shouted, Janos' words of forever ago echoing in his mind. "If you lock on to _Acheron_, he _will_ fire on us!"

"I must concur," T'Pol nodded. "I advise against this course of action, Captain." Her voice was no more stressed than if she had ordered a meal in the mess hall, but her eyes told a different story. She knew, somehow, that Archer was making a mistake.

"_Acheron_ replying," Hoshi announced into the three-way stand-off, her relief evident.

Trip appeared on screen a second later, Neera by his side.

"Trip, what the hell?" Archer demanded.

"You heard'im," Trip shrugged casually. "They've got another weapon. Have had all this time. I gave'em a chance, and they should'a took it. This is on them."

"Trip, were you listening?" Archer asked.

"Of course I was," Trip snorted. "You think I came all this way, did all this, gave up my _life_, not to see this done? If you do, then you got hit harder'n I thought. I'm _not_ letting that weapon survive, and I'm probably not gonna let the people that designed and built it survive either. There ain't gonna be another Trench, Jon. Or worse."

"Trip, I meant were you _listening_," Jon stressed. "Keras told me that as a show of good faith. That they were bargaining with me _in good faith_."

"What he _should'a_ done," Trip shot back, "was tell ya that they already destroyed the sum-bitch. _That's_ a show o' good faith. Still intact, it's just a bargaining chip, and one I don't aim to let'em have. Period."

"Now, you got anything else to say? Cause my patience is wearin' thin, even for you."

"Trip, I can't let you do this," Archer said firmly. Trip snorted.

"How you plan on stoppin' me?" he countered. "Don't be a fool, Jon. I don't work for you, or Starfleet. And you don't give me orders, any more. I've done what you asked, outta respect for you, and our friendship. Nothin' else. Only reason they're still alive right now is cause you asked for it."

"I know that, and appreciate it," Jon nodded. "But I can't let you. . . ."

"You need to get that 'I can't let you' business outta yer system, Archer," Trip growled, and Jon was sure he saw a ripple of some kind across Trip's forehead. "There's exactly nothin' you can do to stop me. _Nothin'_!"

"I'll have to try," Jon replied.

"Then all you'll do is get yourself and ever body on _Enterprise_ killed fer nothin'," Trip shot back. "All to be the hero," he snarled, and Jon was sure this time that he saw a ripple across the skin of Trip's jaw.

"Trip, please," Neera intoned, placing a hand on his shoulder. "_Please_."

"Mister Reed, prepare to target the _Acheron_," Archer said calmly.

"Sir, I respectfully refuse," Reed replied just as calmly. Jon looked at him.

"Excuse me?"

"I will not allow you to kill everyone on this ship, Captain, for nothing more than a grandstand play. A gesture that will serve no purpose. If he intends to destroy this place, then he _will_, and _we cannot stop him_. Sacrificing this ship, and her crew, for such a meaningless act is an action _I_ will take no part in."

The Brit spoke calmly, with dignity, and stood rigidly at attention.

"I'm sorry, Captain," he finished, and no one who heard him doubted he meant it. The sincerity in his voice was palpable.

"T'Pol, please call security," Archer sighed. "Have Mister Reed escorted to the brig and assume tactical."

"No." The calm reply shocked the entire bridge.

"You too?" Archer asked.

"There is no logic in your order, Captain," T'Pol moved to stand beside Reed, who remained at attention. "Your orders will only result in the destruction of this vessel, along with the death of it's crew, for no return of any kind." Her voice softened.

"You are making an emotional response to the actions of a being who is beyond any emotion save rage. You can no longer treat with Captain Tucker as if he were still your friend, fellow crew member, or colleague. He is neither. Not any more."

"Sir," Hoshi spoke softly. "Sir, it kills my heart to say it, but they're right. Trip, _our_ Trip, died when his sister did." She looked at him, tears falling freely. "This Trip, much as I loved the old one, is dead inside. He'll destroy us if we get in the way of his revenge."

"We can't even scratch his paint, sir," Travis offered his own opinion. "Neither can the Xindi. I've. . . ." He trailed off, looking to Reed. Reed nodded.

"Lieutenant Commander Reed and I have analyzed the _Acheron_, sir," Travis continued. "The entire Xindi fleet on station, with or without our help, can't stop the _Acheron_. And that's just the way it is, sir. Tri. . .Comma. . ._Captain_, Tucker, designed and built that thing, Captain. It _has_ no weaknesses." Archer looked at Reed, who nodded.

"I'm afraid it's true, sir. _Acheron_ was designed and constructed by the single smartest engineer I've ever known, or even heard of. He intended it to be a warship, and it is. There isn't a known ship in space that can stand against it, Captain," Reed added.

"You sound as if though you've thought about it," Archer said, a little surprised.

"It's my job as your Tactical Officer, sir," Reed shrugged slightly. "Trav. . .Ensign Mayweather and I have studied the _Acheron _from stem to stern for the last two days. There is no way for us to attack it. None. It would be similar to row boats with rifles attacking the _Bismarck_. He'd know we were here, but there's not a thing we can do to him."

Archer sighed, considering. His entire bridge crew, his most senior and trusted people, were telling him that he'd made a tactical error.

STE

"Trip, I'm begging you," Neera said again, softly. "If I've ever meant anything to you at all, please, give Archer time to speak to them. _Please_."

"I concur, My Lord," Julio nodded. "They aren't going anywhere. And they live at our sufferance. We can destroy them tomorrow, or next week, as easily as we can today. You have all the advantages here, Trip," he added. "All of them."

"If I may?" Dru'hak, who had been silent until now, spoke. Trip nodded, sighing.

"Your enemy is prostrate before you," the old Klingon spoke firmly. "They are beaten, My Lord, and they are well aware of it. You have nothing left to prove. If you give the order, I will obey, as will everyone on this ship." Heads nodded all around the bridge.

"But I submit that such an order is unnecessary," Dru'hak continued. "The enemy cannot harm us, and we can destroy them at any time. They are aware of this. If anything, your actions here may have strengthened Archer's position. He now is able to play the intercessor between your wrath and the planet, the people, below."

"Allow him time to do so."

Trip considered those words. The one problem, the one that even Neera had overlooked, was that it _wasn't_ the symbiot who wanted this. Wasn't making Trip think he wanted it, either.

The truth was, Trip had been _looking_ for an excuse to destroy the Xindi. Any excuse he could find. To his initial delight, they had given him one.

Right now, rage was still coursing through him at the thought that the Xindi had sat on the newer weapon all this time, even after he'd given them a chance to make things right.

He breathed deeply, trying to purge the thoughts from his mind, and, more importantly, from his heart. He wanted so badly to simply order Kron to nuke the world below them, and move away, hunting for any Xindi, anywhere.

As he considered, he looked up at Neera. Standing beside him, hand still on his shoulder. Tears in her eyes. Not for the Xindi. Not for _Enterprise_, Archer, or even for herself.

He knew, suddenly, that her tears were for _him_. For the man he once was. The man he had been, before she'd infected him with the symbiot. She felt guilty because of what he'd become. She'd admitted that more than once. That's when it hit him.

If he nuked this planet into ash, Neera would forever blame herself for Trip's action. The fact that she wouldn't be responsible would in no way ease her pain. For the rest of her long life, Neera would feel to blame for the death of an entire species. All because he couldn't control his nearly insane need for revenge.

Trip suddenly felt sick. His head spun just a little, and he was glad he was sitting down. He reached up, and took Neera's hand, squeezing softly.

"I am so sorry," he murmured. Then he looked around.

"Stand down," he ordered simply. "Weapons and shields to stand-by. Secure from Battle stations."

The entire bridge crew released a collective breath. Only Dru'hak smiled.

"You heard the Captain," he barked. "Move!" The Klingon Second Officer never had to repeat a command. Ever.

Trip stood, still a bit unsteady, as his body struggled to overcome the chemicals in his system. The endorphin's, the adrenaline, and most of all the nausea caused by the realization of what he had almost done to Neera.

"Jon, go back and talk to your friends," he said, his calm demeanor hiding the raging emotion he warred with. "Suggest, _strongly,_ that they destroy that weapon. I _will_ be watching. _Acheron_, out."

STE

"Oh, thank God," Hoshi whispered, her head falling to rest on her console. For all that it was a whisper, it carried across the entire bridge.

"Amen," Travis added his own prayerful whisper.

"Stand down from Tactical Alert," Jon ordered, his voice unsteady. "Everyone," he said, and the bridge crew turned to look at him.

"Thank you," he said simply. "You just saved me from making a mistake. A terrible mistake. I. . .I won't forget." He turned to T'Pol and Malcolm.

"Malcolm, you have the bridge. T'Pol, Hoshi, let's go tell Keras how close he came to being vaporized."

STE

"I do not understand how your people could give so much power to a man who is clearly out of control!" Keras exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" Jon replied.

"How could you allow. . . ."

"I didn't _allow_ it!" Jon almost snarled. "The man you know as Grim? _You_ created him. When you killed his sister, destroyed his home, and left a giant trench where he and his family lived. _Whatever_ he does, _you_ are to blame, Keras. This is what _your unwarranted attack on Earth has caused_." He sat back, suddenly winded.

"He. . .he is not your subordinate?" Keras asked, subdued.

"He was, once," Jon answered. "After your attack, he left our service. That ship? He designed it, built it himself, for one reason. His goal in life became to _remove you from the universe_. Completely. He has foresworn himself to give us the opportunity to make peace. If I were you, I'd cast my accusations a bit more carefully from now on, since he's probably listening in."

Keras appeared very unsettled at that.

"What can we do?" he asked simply.

"I'd start with destroying the new weapon you've constructed. Your admission that you still had it was the reason he almost destroyed your world just now. He felt you had been a bit dishonest in not having already done so."

"We have not yet reached a decision on what to do with it," Keras admitted.

"Then allow me to make a suggestion," Jon leaned forward. "Destroy it, as soon as you can make it happen, and make sure _he_ can see it. I can't promise you that we'll be able to stop him again. He doesn't answer to me, you know. He. . .he listens to me, sometimes, because we were once friends. Before you attacked us," he added for emphasis.

"I. . .we did not. . .we have acted very foolishly," Keras said suddenly. "Many of us were opposed to this from the start, Captain. But the Benefactors were so very convincing. So. . .alluring," he added. It was clear he was being honest.

"Ask yourself a question, Keras," Jon allowed his voice to soften. "If they were so powerful, why did the Benefactors need you to destroy us? Why not do it themselves?"

"Some of us asked the same thing," Keras admitted. "That was when they 'showed' us the future, as they called it. A future where you destroyed the Expanse."

"Where we destroyed the Expanse?" Jon asked. "Or where we destroyed the Spheres? The spheres were altering the space around them, Keras. Making this entire area suitable for someone else to live in. Perhaps your Benefactors?"

"The Expanse was spreading," T'Pol spoke for the first time. "Eventually, it would have grown to encompass our own area of space. Had that been allowed to happen, then, yes, all of the known peoples would likely have attacked anyone and anything that seemed to be causing the expansion. Including your Benefactors."

Keras seemed to consider that for a moment. Jon wished he could read the primate's body language and facial features better.

"They. . .they _used_ us," he said softly, and this time Jon had no problem seeing, hearing, the anger Keras was experiencing.

"I'm afraid so," Jon nodded, his voice gentle.

"I. . .I must speak with the others," Keras said suddenly. "We have a great deal to discuss. I will return to you in. . .an hour?"

"We'll be here."

STE

"How are you feeling?" Neera asked, as she entered Trip's quarters. She was surprised to see him playing with a toy monster. A. . . .

"Y'know, I always loved horror movies," Trip said absently, toying with a replica of Bela Lugosi as Dracula. "Always have. I used to wonder what it would be like, y'know? Being a vampire, livin' forever, bein' able to do things no one else could." He looked up at her.

"Careful what'cha wish for, huh?"

"Trip, we _aren't_ vampires," Neera told him flatly. "Yes, there's no doubt the myth was influenced by someone of us, even Janos agrees about that. But we don't prey on people in the dark of night, and we aren't soul-less, or undead."

"I was pretty soul-less a while ago," Trip shrugged. "And you were wrong, by the way," he told her casually. "Wasn't the symbiot. That was all me," he admitted. "I been lookin' for a reason to kill them, and they gave me what I wanted. And I almost did it." He looked up at her again.

"I want you to know, I stopped for you. I listened to what everyone said, and I was still gonna nuke the planet, but. . .I stopped, for you." He stood, but didn't move away from his desk.

"You said 'if I've ever meant anything to you'. That hurt," he admitted. "Had it comin', but. . .made me think, too. You blame yourself for what I've become. You shouldn't. I told you, long ago. This was what I wanted. The only difference it makes, being you instead of Janos, is that if you hadn't been here, the planet below us would be radioactive right now, and I would probably have destroyed the _Enterprise_ along with the Xindi fleet."

"Trip, don't. . . ."

"The ship is your's," he said flatly. "Unless we come under attack, I won't be back on the bridge. You can't trust me. Hell, I can't trust myself. It's better if I don't have control of _Acheron_, at least right now." He looked at her again.

"I'd select Dru'hak as my XO, in your place, but that's your decision. I know you'll do fine," he almost smiled. "Better than I have, at the least. I. . .I think I'm gonna take a nap or something. Maybe get a bite to eat, watch a movie."

"I know you don't want to be around me right now, and I don't blame you. Know that I'm sorry," he said softly. "I never meant to cause you any pain. That's the last thing I would ever do, I swear it. Sometimes our actions cause pain to the people we love, no matter what our intentions."

"That'll be all," he finished, effectively dismissing her.

She left, giving him time. And to keep him from seeing her tears.

STE

"We are making preparations to destroy the weapon," Keras said abruptly as the video conference began again. "The others agree with you, as do I. There is, however, a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Jon asked.

"The Reptilians, the Insectoids, they. . .they have the plans and designs for the weapon, Archer of Earth. If they can acquire sufficient resources, they may yet construct another weapon, someday."

"And we have no way to stop them," Keras finished, almost as if admitting defeat.

"That is a problem," Jon sighed. "But it's a bridge we'll have to cross when we get to, I guess."

"The three remaining races are all agreed," Keras changed the subject. "We. . .we would like to seek some kind of treaty with Earth. Perhaps starting with trade agreements, and a non-aggression pact. Perhaps a mutual defense agreement." He straightened. "We have also discussed reparations of some kind for your people. We are uncertain what to offer," he admitted. "Or if such an offer might be considered offensive. We have much to learn."

"Keras, there are some things I can agree to, on my own authority," Jon replied. "I can agree to a treaty, but must return it to Earth, where it will need to be approved, or ratified, by our own leadership. I can certainly enter into a temporary non-aggression pact, but it would be temporary. Again, our government would have to agree to it, as well."

"With all that in mind, I have a suggestion," he leaned forward. "Select a delegation from your three peoples, and let them travel to Earth with us as your representatives. They will need authority to make decisions on your behalf, and to bargain with our representatives. Allow them to bring a small staff to assist them. It's possible that your people could establish an embassy on Earth."

"I warn you, however, that it will be a long road to such things," he added honestly. "There will be great hatred for you, and your people. That's just a fact, and there's no point in hiding it, or trying to make it less than what it is."

"I can guarantee your safety on this ship. That's all I can promise. I'll support you if you agree to bargain in good faith. Starting with the complete destruction of that weapon. And Keras, for the sake of us all, please be honest. Is that the only one?"

"Yes," Keras nodded. "There were two proto-types. One sent to attack you, another destroyed in an accident in space. There were no others."

Jon tried to hide his sigh of relief as he leaned back. Hopefully that would be enough to keep Trip at bay.

"What promises can you make us that Grim the Destroyer will not still attack us?" Keras asked, as if reading Archer's mind.

"None," Jon said simply. "But I will speak to him. As soon as we're finished here, in fact."

"Please do so," Keras nodded his agreement. "I will call you again when the preparations are complete."

Jon felt a great weariness descend over him. He looked over at Hoshi.

"Raise the _Acheron_," he ordered. "I need to speak to 'Grim'," he smiled weakly.

"I don't like that name," Hoshi frowned.

"Nor do I, Ensign," T'Pol spoke up. "I do find it fitting, however. Unfortunately."

STE

"I need to speak with Trip, Neera," Jon spoke as the statuesque woman appeared on screen, sitting in the Captain's chair of _Acheron_.

"That will not be possible, Captain Archer," Neera told him smoothly. "My Lord is unavailable for the time being. If your message is important enough, I will relay it to him."

"I really need to speak to him, personally, Neera. Sorry." Jon used his best diplomatic smile and Captain voice.

"That will not be possible, Captain," Neera repeated, speaking a bit slower this time.

"I need to tell him. . . ."

"Your needs are insignificant to us, alongside his," Neera cut him off. "As I said, he is not to be disturbed. If the message merits it, then we will relay it. That is the best deal you get today, Captain Archer," she smiled back. It wasn't exactly a predatory smile, but. . . .

"Has something happened to him?" Jon asked.

"Nothing that need concern you," Neera replied calmly. "If he desires to hear you, he can return your call, but that will be up to him. Your message?"

"The Xindi are preparing to destroy the weapon," Jon told her, giving up on talking to Trip. "I wanted him to know that, and that we may be taking a delegation from here back to Earth to ratify a peace treaty."

"I will so inform him," Neera nodded regally, but seemed to soften at the news.

"Is he all right, Neera?" Jon asked. "I. . .he's my friend. I'm just concerned."

"Lord Grim has many people who are concerned for him," she replied cooly. "And you have presumed on that friendship enough, for now, Captain. I will say only that he is in no danger. His instructions were not to disturb him unless we were under attack. This news, however, I believe warrants such an intrusion. He will be made aware of it at once."

"I just thought he'd like to see it destroyed," Jon shrugged.

"What he would _like_ is to see the death and destruction of every Xindi world and population," Neera sighed slightly. "But perhaps this may appease him. _Acheron_, clear." The screen went dark.

"Well," Jon raised an eyebrow. "That was abrupt."

"She is his. . .they are very close," Reed murmured.

"You seem to know a great deal, Mister Reed," T'Pol remarked calmly. "Would you care to enlighten the rest of us?"

"Not for any reason," was his only reply.

STE

Delana looked up as Neera walked into the med bay.

"Hello, Neera," she smiled.

"I need an answer," Neera said abruptly.

"What?" the doctor looked puzzled.

"I need to know your decision," Neera looked down at her. "If you have decided on whether you are interested or not."

"Oh," Delana replied softly. "That."

"Yes."

"Why the sudden need?" Delana asked.

"Trip needs you," Neera said simply. "I think you can help him, where I cannot. Perhaps between the two of us, we can be all that he needs."

"If we can't, are we going to go looking for a third?" Delana asked, eyebrows rising.

"I'm being serious," Neera shot back.

"I am too, kind of," Delana stood her ground. "Asking me to be part of a family unit with the two of you is one thing. Sending me to him because he 'needs' me, is something else. Does he _want_ me?"

"You know he does," Neera answered softly. "If not for me. . . ."

"That's not how I want it," Delana shook her head. "I'm sorry, Neera, but if you want it that way, right now, then it has to be no."

"I see," Neera nodded. "He still needs you, as a counselor. That is one of your functions, after all. He is dealing with. . .much. I cannot help him, as I am one of the things he is dealing with. It has to be you," she finished, shrugging. "There is no one else."

"If there was, would you have gone to them first?" Delana asked.

"No." Neera's answer was flat and final.

"All right," Delana nodded. "I'll go and help him, however I can."

"_Any _way you can," Neera stressed. "Please," she added, as the Betazoid woman opened her mouth to object. She thought.

"Any way I can," Delana smiled softly.

"Please inform him that Archer called, and the Xindi are going to destroy the weapon."

"I will do so."

STE

"Come in!" Trip called, despite frowning at the interruption. He looked to the opening door, surprised to see Delana Grix standing there.

"May I?" she smiled.

"I already said come in," he smiled slightly, waving her in. She stepped inside.

Trip was sitting on his couch, feet on one end, working on a PADD. He laid that aside, and straightened to clear room for her to sit down.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Ah, I'm good," he shrugged. "Just. . .thinkin' on things. You?"

"I'm pretty good for the moment," she smiled again. "I thought you'd want to know, we heard from Archer. The Xindi are going to destroy the weapon. Enterprise is going to take a delegation from the three friendly races to Earth, hopefully to establish a treaty of sorts."

"That'll go over good with the home folk," Trip snorted. "Still, be glad that thing is gone," he mused. Trip was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, lounging. She'd never seen him not in uniform.

"You look pretty relaxed for a ship's Captain," she noted, leaning back.

"Not really a Cap'n at tha moment," he shrugged, turning slightly to face her. "Decided I needed a break, 'fore I did somethin' stupid."

"Like destroy a planet?"

"Like destroy a ship full o' people I used to call friends. Fam'ly, even," he corrected. "Couldn't care less 'bout the Xindi, to be honest, 'cept. . . ." He broke off, sighing. "Well, don't matter," he waved it away.

"I'd say it does," Delana replied. "You were on the cusp of destroying an entire planet. An entire civilization. And then you shut it off like it was nothing. Like turning a switch. That's not normal, Trip. It's not healthy, either."

"Yeah, well, good health ain't somethin' I gotta worry 'bout no more," Trip snorted.

"I meant not healthy here," Delana reached out to caress his temple.

"There, I already got problems," he shrugged. "One more won't make no difference."

"I disagree," she replied. "Tell me about your sister, Trip. Tell me about the girl who meant so much to you, that you're sitting here, on the verge of destroying an entire species. Five of them to be exact."

"What'cha wanna know?" Trip asked, almost shrugging.

"I want to _know_ your sister," Delana moved closer to him, taking his hand in her's. "I want to know _everything_."

Delana was very subtle, almost like simple conversation. She was good at what she did, and the fact that she loved the man sitting in front of her beyond the point of reason simply made her better. She coaxed, she pushed gently, she never demanded, never forced.

He would never know why, but something, somewhere, broke inside him, and Trip started to cry. Delana hugged him to her, soothing him as he sobbed, murmuring to him, hands moving to comfort him. After a long while, he began to speak.


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

"So it cuts into the profit margin, then?"

Trip was sitting in the mess hall, talking with Jerry Trail. Like Travis Mayweather, Trail was a boomer, born and raised in space.

"Yes, sir," Trail nodded. "Trying to use convoys mean that the ships have to make too many stops delivering cargo. Depending on how many ships, and how many stops, it could even double the transit time. That means the ship earns about half as much money, and some ships. . .well, they operated close to blanket as it is, as my old man might say. They can't afford it."

"Even though it's safer?" Trip pressed, trying to work out the problem in his mind.

"Safer is relative in space, sir," Trail shrugged. "You know that."

"True," Trip sat back in his seat. "Okay. So if the convoys are organized to take ships on a regular circuit, like, would that work? I mean, would anyone try it, you think?"

"I don't follow, sir."

"Look at it like this," Trip leaned forward again, more animated than anyone had seen him in the last several days. Or weeks. "If you have a regular circuitous route, pre-planned, and the ships could arrange for other cargo along the way, would that work?"

"You mean making a regular route?" Trail frowned. "Most ships try to do that, anyway."

"Sort of," Trip nodded. "But. . .let's say there's, I dunno, six cargo ships. They all start with a cargo that's going from Earth, or wherever, to one or two planets. Somewhere on those two planets, they secure another job, going to another planet on the route. And so on. See what I mean?"

"Like the old freight lines on Earth," Trail mused, getting it.

"Exactly!" Trip slapped the table. "One of the worst problems is the time in transit. So if we make a route of it, and each ship can take on more than one cargo run on the route, then that would raise the profit margin, right?"

"Well, sure," Trail nodded, starting to share Trip's enthusiasm. "Half the trouble most ship Captains have is securing return cargo. A lot of the time, they end up dead heading back to Earth for their next run. But," he frowned, "most planets have their own cargo services. You'd be competing head to head with them, too."

"Ain't nothin' wrong with a little healthy competition," Trip declared. "And there ain't nothin' says them same alien cargo vessels can't buy into the program, either. Or is there?" he asked.

"No, not that I know of," Trail admitted. "I know my father has friends among alien cargo ships. I mean real friends, not just business associates. No reason that wouldn't work."

"Thanks, Jerry," Trip smiled. "I really appreciate it. Talkin' to somebody that knows the in's and out's is a real help."

"I'm glad to be of help, sir," Trail smiled. "And, for what it's worth, I think it's a good idea. I hope it works."

"Me too," Trip smiled, getting to his feet. "Talk to ya later!" He left the mess hall, already adding what he'd learned from Jerry Trail to his PADD, working it into his idea. One of his ideas.

Janos was building a lot of ships. Trip knew that keeping them flying was costly. Janos might or might not be able to afford it, but another problem was that ship crews simply hanging around waiting for something to happen got bored. When they got bored, they also got careless, and sometimes a bit lazy. And they lost their edge.

So, he decided, why not find work for them? There were pirates, slavers, privateers, all kinds of nefarious people in space that preyed on cargo ships. Not just ECS ships either.

What better way to keep the ships and their crews on their toes, than. . . .

"_Captain Tucker to the bridge!_" Julio's voice rang across the ship. No sooner had the echo stopped than red lights began to flash, and klaxons began to blare.

"What the hell?"

STE

"What?"

"It would seem that the Reptilians, along with Insectoids, had planned for something like this," Keras told Archer. Behind the primate spokesman, other Xindi could be seen running to and fro, red lights flashing all around.

"There were Reptilian and Insectoid troops hiding beneath the water, perhaps already on the weapon itself. They have seized control of the weapon, and are launching it as we speak!"

"I thought you said it was in it's final phase of construction, not ready to launch!" Jon was halfway out of his seat before his broken leg reminded him why he was sitting.

"The final phase was the installation of the vortex generator," Keras explained. "A device we use to travel great distances in a short time. It is very power expensive, but an efficient way to move hurriedly. The weapon does not have such a device."

"Are you sure?" Archer demanded, just short of snidely.

"Positive. The required components were being custom made, and have not yet been completed."

"Well, that's something, anyway. What are you going to do?"

"All of our ships have been ordered to attempt to destroy the weapon, but, it's shields are very strong. It's weaponry, aside from the main weapon I mean, is substantial. Our people will try, but I am not confident in their chances."

"Does the damn thing have a self-destruct?" Jon asked.

"We already tried that," Keras sighed. "It either malfunctioned, or, more likely, has been disabled. The weapon is already sealed, and we cannot force our way in, though we are still. . . ."

"Captain, you're gonna want to see this," Reed called, his voice grim.

"One moment, Keras," Jon held up a hand. "On screen!"

The image before him switched to a view of the planet below. As the assembled bridge crew watched, a massive sphere rose above the water, a sled of some kind beneath it.

Once clear of the water, the construct gained speed rapidly, heading for space. Smaller craft, barely visible, were clearly attacking the giant ship, but to no apparent effect.

"They will not be able to prevent the weapon leaving atmosphere," T'Pol informed him gravely. "No damage is registering from their weapons."

"Hoshi, see if you can raise _Acheron_," Jon ordered, a sick feeling in his stomach. Trip had been right.

STE

"What is it?" Trip asked, walking onto the bridge. While in civilian clothes, his presence was still imposing.

"Trip," Neera told him softly, "the weapon is launching."

"What?" His voice seemed to lower the temperature on the bridge

"Reptilian and Insectoid troops have seized the weapon," Julio informed him. "It's. . .there it is!"

Trip followed the other man's gaze, to where the screen showed a massive object leaving the water. Right where the weapon had been.

Cold fury gripped him as Trip watched. The _Acheron_'s equipment was much more sophisticated than _Enterprise_, and allowed Trip to see in more detail as Xindi ships fought vainly in an attempt to keep the weapon from leaving the atmosphere.

"They will fail," Kron spoke without looking up. "They are not causing any damage to the vessel. The shields are too strong."

Trip sat down in the Captain's chair, watching in silence as ship after ship fell to the firepower of the Xindi craft. He allowed the devil his due, recognizing the bravery of the Xindi crews trying to stop the huge vessel. Their bravery was a sight to behold.

It was also in vain.

"Weapon is leaving atmo," Julio stated quietly. "Xindi fleet attempting to engage."

"What do we do?" Neera asked. Even though she expected it, the hate filled gaze that turned to her was painful.

"Well, I dunno," came the reply. "I guess, if somebody had destroyed the damn thing _while it was still on the ground_, without power, that might o' worked."

"Trip, please," Neera shook her head. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. But we have to do something. They could be headed to Earth."

"Probably are," Trip nodded, looking back to the screen. "Kron, you scan any weaknesses in that thing?"

"Not at present, My Lord," the Klingon admitted. "I am still looking."

Trip rubbed his forehead, feeling a swell of guilt within. He had let himself be talked out of doing the _one thing _he'd intended to do, and now, this. A gigantic version of the weapon that had attacked Earth, killing Elizabeth and so many more, was now on the move. Extrapolating the damage based on the damage caused by the first attack, Trip realized that this thing was, indeed, a planet killer.

"They'll destroy the Earth with that," he said. "There won't be a thing left."

"Orders, sir?" Kron requested. Already the Xindi fleet was attacking, causing no more damage than the small ships in atmosphere had done. Three of their ships had already fallen to fire from the weapon/ship.

"Keep scanning," he sighed. "Jerry, move us to engagement range. Kron, fire two volleys of torpedoes, time on target to whatever you think is a weak point, and then concentrate every gun that will bear on that point. Have the rail guns target hard weapon points for now, and try to disable some of their defensive power. Until we can. . . ."

"_Enterprise_ hailing," Julio almost winced as he said it.

"Go ahead," Trip nodded, sitting back, even as _Acheron_ began to move.

STE

"What the hell do you want?" Trip asked as soon as his image was on the screen. His flat voice, lack of animation, and hatred in his eyes were all in contradiction to the activity around him.

"Trip, we have to stop that thing," Archer said at once.

"Oh, so now you agree with me?," Trip snarled.

"Trip, we can talk about that later," Jon tried to soothe. "Right now we've got a problem."

"A problem that we _didn't have to have_," Trip refused to let go. "One I had an answer for. Now, when you see that I was right, you call wanting my help?" He leaned forward.

"Has it occurred to you that even _Acheron_ might not be able to damage that thing? Did you notice how big that sum-bitch is, or how much firepower it has?"

"Trip, dammit, I said I was wrong," Jon shot back. "I need. . . ."

"I couldn't give a damn what you need," Trip almost growled. "Talk to your damn friends, get me the specs on this thing. Maybe there's a weakness somewhere we can find. You'd better pray there is," he added. "Otherwise, I imagine Earth is gonna be a glowin' ember by the time they're through." He made a cutting motion, and the screen went blank.

"T'Pol, contact Keras, and see if what Trip wants is available," Jon ordered, his voice thick. He sat heavily in his chair, waiting for the giant craft to enter weapon's range.

Trip was right. Had been all along. And his own hesitation might now end in the death of their planet.

STE

"Anything?" Trip asked, walking to where Kron was preparing to engage.

"No, My Lord. Nothing."

"Maybe we'll find somethin' if we get the plans for it," Trip informed him. "Meanwhile, do what you can. Get Julio to call _Enterprise_, and have them tell the Xindi to target wherever you're going to. Might get lucky, anyway."

"Aye, sir," Kron nodded, and moved to follow his orders. Trip walked around the bridge, a word here, a pat on the back there, working to reassure his crew that they would figure something out. Some of them called Earth home, after all.

He made his way back to his seat, where Neera waited, standing.

"Trip, I. . . ."

"I don' wanna hear it," Trip held up a hand, stopping her. "Not right now, and maybe not ever. Just. . .just do your job."

"Very well," she said softly, nodding once. She turned to her station, preparing for when they were in range. There wasn't really anything she could say, anyway.

Not that mattered.

STE

"And this is all of it?" Trip asked, looking at the exploded view of the plans for the massive Xindi vessel.

"According to Keras, yes," Jon replied.

"Well, we're screwed then," Trip sighed. _Acheron_ rocked slightly, taking fire from the massive vessel. "There's nothin' here. Whoever designed the damn thing did a bang up job."

"There has to be something we can do," Jon insisted.

"I'm all ears," Trip shot back. "Please, enlighten me."

"Trip, we don't have time for that," Jon snapped. "I know you're pissed at me. . . ."

"No, I _hate_ you," Trip said flatly. "Because of you and certain. . .other people," he pointedly didn't look at Neera, "I'm about to have to. . .well, that don't matter. You need to stand by. I'll be back to you shortly." He cut the feed, and looked at Julio.

"My ready room, Mister Givens," he ordered tersely. "The rest of you, back to your posts. You as well, Tala," he ordered, this time a bit more gently. "We should be able to keep up with this thing on one warp engine. Tap engine two for increased power to weapons mounts."

"Aye, My Lord," she nodded, and hurried on her way. Trip walked to his ready room, stalked actually, with Julio Givens following.

"Can we survive in vacuum?" Trip asked abruptly.

"Uh. . .I dunno," Julio stammered. "That I know of, no one has ever tried."

"Well, doesn't matter. I'm about to order the crew to shuttles and lifeboats," he surprised the hacker. "Neera probably won't want to go. Can you knock her out with something, and make sure she gets off the ship?"

"Not if I want to live," Julio replied, shivering.

"Can you or not?" Trip demanded. "I ain't got time for the bull-shit today, Mister."

"Yes," Julio sighed. "I can. I need about five minutes."

"Get it done at once," Trip ordered. Julio departed, and Trip commed Delana.

"What's wrong?" she asked without preamble.

"I'm going to have to do something pretty stupid in a few minutes," Trip informed her. "Before I do, I'm going to order everyone to abandon _Acheron_. Make sure you're on one of those shuttles."

"You'll need your doctor," Delana objected.

"Where I'm goin', doctors ain't no good," Trip snorted. "Five minutes." He shut the com off before the doctor could answer. Looking around his ready room, Trip sighed. How did all of this get so messed up? he shook his head. He took a deep breath, and headed for the bridge. As soon as he arrived, he walked straight to Kron's station.

"Can you direct the ship's computer to fire the guns autonomously?" he demanded.

"Yes, sir."

"Then do so, and prepare to abandon ship. I'll take if from here."

"Sir, I will sta. . . ."

"You'll do what I tell ya," Trip hissed, and the Klingon bowed at once.

"Of course, My Lord."

"Set the weapons, then arm the nukes," Trip ordered. "After that, get to a pod."

Kron studied the man before him, and realization dawned in his eyes. Stiffening, he saluted.

"As you wish."

Trip's next visit was to Jason Hunter.

"I'm about to order everyone to abandon ship," he said simply. "I want you and three of your strongest people on Neera's shuttle when it launches. I don't know what she'll do, but I want you nearby, in case she has to be restrained."

"Ah, sir. . . ."

"Don't even think of arguing with me," Trip warned. "And send Trina to get Delana. Doctor Grix is her only responsibility in life, starting now. I want her on a boat, five minutes ago." He paused.

"I'll have _Enterprise_ standing by to retrieve the boats and pods. Good luck."

"Sir," Hunter nodded, and was off, carrying out his orders.

"Ready, m'Lord," Givens whispered, walking by him. Trip nodded.

"Ship wide, Mister Givens," he ordered calmly. "Jerry, get to a pod. I got it," he murmured to Trail, moving to the helm.

"I'll stay with you, sir," Trail all but whispered.

"Nah, better let me, this time," Trip smiled. He handed the boomer the PADD he'd been carrying. "Give this to Kov when you get back. Few ideas for upgrades. And some other stuff. Tell'im to send it to Janos."

"I. . .yes, sir," Trail nodded, accepting the PADD. "It's been a rare privilege, My Lord."

"Same here," Trip smiled again, taking the man's hand. "Go on, now."

"Ship wide, sir," Julio said.

"Attention all hands," Trip spoke slowly, clearly. "This is the Captain. All hands prepare to abandon ship. Thank you all, for everything. Godspeed." He made a cutting motion.

"Get me _Enterprise_," he ordered. He turned to look at Dru'hak. The elder Klingon had been watching him.

"I need you to do something for me."

"You have but to name it," the towering Dru'hak replied.

"Make sure Tala gets on a pod or a shuttle. That's my last command to you, my friend. Now go."

"I will see it done," Dru'hak nodded. "Today is a good day, My Lord." He then ran to get the little Andorian engineer.

"What are you doing?" Neera asked, concern in her face.

"Don't let it worry ya," he told her. "Just get to the pods," he added as Hunter and two others arrived.

"Not until you do!" she insisted.

"Julio," Trip ordered. The tech was behind her already, and at Trip's word, reached up, hitting Neera in the neck with a hypo.

"What. . . ." Whatever he had used worked fast, and the tech caught her as she collapsed.

"Get goin'," he ordered as Archer appeared on the screen.

STE

"My crew is abandonin' ship," Trip said without fanfare. "You make sure every pod, every shuttle, get's picked up, and that my crew get back to Earth."

"What are you doing?" Jon asked, a sudden dread in his stomach.

"Don't let it bother ya," Trip snapped back, taking the helm of _Acheron_. "Mal!"

"Here, mate," Reed appeared. He had a sick look on his face.

"Thanks, Malcolm," Trip said simply. "For bein' my friend. Remember what he said. Good luck."

"Trip," Reed started, then stopped, nodding. "I will, mate. I promise."

"Take care." Trip nodded, and the signal was gone.

"Get him back!" Jon ordered. Hoshi tried but looked to him, shaking her head.

"_Acheron_'s pods are ejecting," T'Pol said, watching her screen. "Shuttles are launching."

"_Acheron_ not responding," Hoshi sobbed. "I. . .I think he's the only one left on board," she added.

"Concur," T"Pol's voice was strangely subdued. "One life sign registers on _Acheron_. Human."

"He can't," Jon whispered.

"I believe he is," T'Pol replied, correctly assuming what Archer meant. "It is the only conclusion that fits the data. _Acheron_'s speed is increasing."

STE

Trip sat at the helm, course already set. He reached into his pocket, and removed the Dracula doll, looking at it fondly. It made him think of a simpler, easier, far less complicated time.

"Shame I had to grow up," he said aloud.

_What are you doing, Charles_?

"Hey there," Trip said aloud. "Wondered when I'd hear from ya."

_You are going to sacrifice yourself_, the symbiot said.

"Well, I'd rather not think of it like that," Trip chuckled. "But, yeah."

_A worthy act_, the symbiot agreed._ One worthy of remembrance_.

"You say so," Trip shrugged, making a slight adjustment to the helm. "Sorry we won't get to know each other better."

_Do not be concerned. It is as it must be._

"No, it didn't have to be this way," Trip shook his head. "I could'a put an end to this days ago. But I let people talk me out of it. Now, well. . .I guess you're right. Now, this is how it's gotta be. I never thought I'd be out here all alone."

_You will not be alone_, the symbiot's voice was kind. _I will be with you to the end._

"Thanks, buddy," Trip chuckled. "I'm sorry you gotta go with me."

_Do not be. It is of no consequence. And I would not desert you, even if I could_.

Trip nodded to himself, and made another correction to the ship's course. The weapon was looming pretty large in the screen, now.

"Lizzie, I'm sorry, honey," he said aloud. "Maybe I'll get to see you again, this way."

STE

"Commander, the unknown vessel is. . .I think he intends to ram the weapon."

"So I see," the ship's commander nodded, moving around the bridge. "All power to shields," he ordered.

"Are we going to attack?" his Second asked.

"No point," the Commander shook his head. "And I doubt we could help, anyway," he added reluctantly. "There is one thing, however." He spoke softly to his XO for a few seconds, and she nodded, hurrying off the bridge.

"Move us in closer," he ordered.

STE

"Hoshi, get Trip back on line!" Archer demanded.

"Sir, I can't," Hoshi explained. "There's no one but him still aboard, and I'd say he's flying. He can't respond." _And probably wouldn't, if he could, _she didn't add. She wiped away some of the tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Then move us in to. . . ."

"We cannot," T'Pol cut him off. "We are currently recovering escape pods and shuttle occupants. We cannot abandon them."

Archer fumed as he realized she was right. There was nothing he could do.

"_Acheron_ is on a collision course with the weapon platform," T'Pol's voice might have shown the slightest emotion. "Course is being updated."

"Dammit Trip!" Jon almost yelled. "Don't do this!"

"It's the only option," Reed intoned, his face a mask. "He knows it."

"I refuse to believe there's not another way!" Archer shot back.

"There _was_ another way," Reed's voice was remorseless. "There was a threat, on the ground, and Trip had a way to destroy it."

"This isn't the time for second guessing!" Archer's voice might have been tinged with guilt.

"Nor am I," Reed shrugged. "Once this thing had it's shields up, there's nothing we can do to it. Not even _Acheron_ is that strong."

"_Acheron_ is still increasing speed," T'Pol informed them. Her cool exterior was definitely starting to crack.

"Hoshi. . ." Archer started, then stopped. Hoshi couldn't make Trip answer. There was no point in hurting her worse.

"The Xindi are retreating," T'Pol informed him. "They are offering to assist in recovery of the pods."

"Do we need them?" he asked.

"No," she informed him. "We have the situation under control."

"Then tell'em thanks, but we've got it." Jon drew a deep breath, watching helplessly as his best friend moved to correct a mistake that he, Archer, had made.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Trip, I am so very sorry."

STE

"Are you ready?" The Commander asked.

"Yes, sir," came the prompt reply. "We're almost close enough."

"Don't wait for the command," he ordered. "If you get the chance, take it."

"Aye, sir," she replied.

STE

Trip made a course correction, watching as the platform grew in the viewer. The Xindi ships were falling back, he noted. That left him and _Acheron_ as the only target available, and the platform weapon began to focus all their firepower on the rapidly approaching battle cruiser.

"Yeah, too late for that," Trip murmured darkly. Both of _Acheron_'s warp engines were tied into the shield generators. Eventually, with time, the giant Xindi weapon could batter the shields down, but that was time Trip had no intention of giving them.

"Wish I could'a called mah folks," he mused to himself. "Reckon somebody'll tell'em."

_You are a fine representative of your kind, Charles Tucker. I have been privileged to know you, even a short while_.

"Same here, buddy," Trip said aloud.

_Acheron_ rocked again as the Xindi weapons encountered her shields. Trip ignored it, strapping himself into the helm chair. The Xindi platform now filled the view screen before him, growing closer by the second. As if sensing, finally, what was happening, the platform appeared to try and change course, but the sluggish vessel couldn't get out of the way. Trip picked a spot that looked vulnerable, and made one last course correction.

"I wish I could think of something snappy to say," Trip spoke aloud, one last time. He realized he was glowing, now, and smiled thinly. He'd never seen himself do that, but everyone had always said it was. . . .

_Acheron_'s bow hit the Xindi weapon at three-quarter's impulse. The outer hull of the great ship crumpled, but not before crashing through the armor plate of the platform, making way for the rest of the ship to follow.

_Acheron_ was well inside the larger Xindi construct when the nuke's cooked off.

STE

"My God," Jon whispered, flinching as the nuclear light flared from the weapon's platform.

"All _Acheron_ personnel recovered," T'Pol announced.

"Get us clear, Travis."

"Yes, sir." Mayweather guided the _Enterprise_ away from the rapidly expanding nuclear cloud, avoiding the blast wave.

No one on the bridge spoke as the view on the screen gradually began to clear. As it did, there remained no sign of the Xindi weapon.

Or the _Acheron_.


	26. Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The mood on _Enterprise_ was subdued, to say the least. Everyone knew, within five minutes, what Trip Tucker had done.

There were tears, cheers, solemn prayers, and pride, all warring with each other among the crew. Their visitors were not so conflicted. They were silent, withdrawn, and angry.

So _very _angry.

Temporarily housed in Cargo Two, the crewmen reflected on the loss of their ship, and their Captain. None were surprised at his actions, but it was a hard blow, none-the-less.

The Klingon, Denobulan, and Human foot soldiers were gathered together in one group, while the ship's crew were in another. Each group knew a different side of the man they had called Captain. Each remembered him in their own way.

Neera had been taken to guest quarters to recover, Delana going with her. It was obvious that the beautiful Betazed woman had been crying. Neera was still unconscious, but Julio had advised Delana that the sedative would last only a few more minutes before her own symbiot scrubbed the chemicals from her system.

"What do I tell her?" Delana asked, still in shock.

"I don't know," Julio admitted. "I don't what to tell myself, yet."

Delana had nodded silently, then followed the troopers carrying Neera.

She didn't know either.

STE

"Keras, please tell me there's nothing else," Jon almost pleaded.

"Nothing," the Primate counselor nodded. "I am told that the Destroyer himself is responsible for the destruction of the weapon."

"Yes," Jon nodded. "He is."

"I am sorry I could not have known him under different circumstances," Keras' voice carried a note of sadness. "We are. . .we will find a way to make this right, Archer of Earth. I do not, as yet, know how, but we will."

"I hope you can," Archer nodded. "We no longer have room for your delegation, Keras. You'll need to provide your own transport."

"We will do so. . . ." he broke off, looking to the side. Behind him, the lights went red again.

"Now what?"

STE

"Reptilian and Insectoid ships approaching!" Reed called out as Archer walked onto the bridge. "I count seventeen total vessels."

"Put Keras on here," Jon pointed to the main screen.

"We are about to be under attack," the Primate said without preamble. "These ships were undoubtably meant as an escort for the weapon."

"What shape are your ships in?" Jon asked.

"We have eleven vessels that are combat capable," Keras replied. "They are currently forming to meet the attack."

"We'll help all we can," Jon promised.

"It is for us to do," Keras sighed.

"Friends help each other, where they can," Jon shrugged. "If we're to be friends, Keras, we may as well start here." The Primate studied him for a moment, the nodded.

"As you say, Archer of Earth."

"Sir, we're being hailed," Hoshi interjected. "I think it's Andorian."

"What?" Jon looked shocked. "Put it up." The view screen split, and Archer found himself looking at. . . .

"Shran?"

STE

"Hello, Pinkskin!" Shran smiled from his command chair. "You seem to be in a fix."

"You could say that," Jon nodded. "What brings you to the neighborhood?"

"The Imperial Guard decided we should get a look at what was going on here," Shran admitted. "If they can attack you, they can attack Andoria as well."

"Not anymore," Jon said grimly. "Thanks to. . . ."

"We saw," Shran held up a hand. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I hope we never do again," Jon nodded.

"There are three of us," Shran informed him. "All _Kumari_ class. We'll form on your left, and attack on your orders."

"I. . .I don't know what to say, Shran," Jon admitted.

"You can start with thank you, should we survive," the Andorian laughed. "Over a bottle of Andorian Ale."

"Works for me," Jon managed to smile.

"Now, I have something to do. We'll be in position shortly. Let us know what you want us to do." With that Shran cut the signal.

"Travis, move us to the Xindi left."

_Enterprise_ began to head for battle.

STE

Trip slowly became aware of his surroundings. Klaxons were blaring in the background, and he frowned.

_That can't be right_, he thought to himself._ I should be dead_.

_We are not dead_, the symbiot informed him. _We appear to be upon another vessel. This method of transport, beaming, is very unsettling to me. I do not care for it._

_Never been wild about it myself, _Trip agreed. He looked around, eyes landing on an Andorian medic.

"Where am I?" he asked, rising.

"Please, Captain, lie still," the medic requested.

"I'm fine," Trip assured him, now sitting on the bed. "Where am I?" he repeated.

"You're on my ship, Pinkskin!" Shran's voice boomed across the bay. Trip winced, looking in that direction.

"Shran? I'll be damned," he chuckled.

"Not just yet," Shran shook his head. "Well, probably not yet," he amended. "We're going to aid the _Enterprise_ and the Xindi against some other Xindi."

"Did it work?" Trip jerked upright. "The weapon, did I. . . ."

"Completely gone," Shran assured him. "I'm sorry about your ship, Pinkskin Tucker," he added.

"Me too," Trip nodded. "What attack?" he asked.

"Several Reptilian and Inectoid ships have arrived, and are moving into attack range. The remaining Xindi forces here, along with _Enterprise, Kumari, Andela_, and _Thyrok_, my ships, are moving to meet them. Promises to be quite the battle," he smiled.

"Great, just great," Trip muttered.

"You did well, Tucker," Shran said seriously. "Without that weapon, their forces are vulnerable, I believe. We'll soon test that, to see if I'm right."

"Everyone thinks I'm dead," Trip snorted.

"Would you like to inform them otherwise?" Shran asked.

"No," Trip decided. "Not now. You need your coms, if battle is coming. I would like to watch what happens."

"Join me on the bridge then," Shran invited. "We'll have a good seat."

STE

"Enemy ships are slowing," T'Pol announced. "Still in attack formation."

"They found something they weren't expecting," Reed nodded. "They may have expected to see the weapon in orbit, waiting for them."

"Enemy ships have slowed to approximately one-quarter impulse," T'Pol added.

"Traffic from the enemy ships to the planet, sir," Hoshi informed Archer. "Sounds as if Keras is informing the Reptilians they are too late," she added, trying to translate on the go.

The crew waited. All they could do, under the circumstances. After five minutes, the enemy Xindi began to move again. Turning.

"They are turning away," T'Pol reported. "Moving out of. . . ." she stopped.

"What?" Archer looked over at her.

"They are gone," she looked up, eyebrow raised. "I can only surmise this is an example of the vortex generator that Keras spoke of."

"They opened a wormhole?" Jon looked shocked.

"It appears so," T'Pol nodded. "I did not think such a thing was possible."

"Bloody hell," Reed swore. "If they have that kind of technology, this thing may not be over," he warned.

"Explain," T'Pol ordered.

"They can open that vortex anywhere," he pointed out. "They could jump us anywhere between here and Earth."

Silence met his words, since no one else had thought of that.

STE

"Well, I guess there will be no battle," Shran said quietly. "Pity."

"Don't knock it," Trip snorted. "Most of the folks here could use a day to rest and refit."

"You included?" Shran asked.

"Got nothin' to refit, anymore," Trip shrugged.

"What do you want to do now?" Shran asked. Before Trip could answer, the Andorian com officer interrupted.

"_Enterprise_ calling." Trip stepped away from Shran, shaking his head. For some reason, he wanted to stay 'dead' for now.

"Hello Pinkskin," Shran said when Archer's face appeared.

"Looks like no fight, this time," Archer shrugged. "Thanks, Shran. You being here might be what stopped them."

"I suppose," Shran shrugged. "We're an unknown to them."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Well, since there's no more weapon, I suppose we'll head home," Shran replied. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, to be honest."

"I don't suppose you'd care to tag along with us?" Archer asked.

"Whatever for?" Shran laughed.

"Just for the company," Archer shrugged.

"I'll think about it," Shran nodded. "What's in it for me?"

"The company," Archer smiled slightly. "And a chance to make new friends."

"Interesting," Shran leaned back. "As I said, I'll think about it. When are you leaving?"

"Waiting on the Xindi delegation," Archer replied without thinking.

"Delegation, is it?" Shran asked. "Sounds like you've made peace with them, Archer."

"Of a sort," Archer nodded, repressing a wince. "Some of them."

"Sounds like a story. Get back to me before you leave. We'll stay here another hour or so, anyway." He made a cutting motion, and the screen went blank. Shran looked at Trip.

"What are you going to do?"

"Ain't quite worked that out, yet," Trip admitted. "If you head home, to Andoria, reckon you can drop me somewhere on the way?"

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Shran nodded.

"Reckon that's what I might do, then," Trip mused. "We'll see." Trip had some thinking to do.

He'd lost his ship, but also, perhaps, his way. Until he found it again, maybe it was better he stayed 'dead'.

STE

"They can what?"

"The Aquatic cruiser we indicated can take your ship into it's cargo bay, and use the vortex generator to transport your ship home in far less time than it would take you normally," Keras explained. "We will be following aboard two of our own ships. It will be much safer, as well," he added.

Jon considered that. It would be so nice to go home. Added to that was the strain of the Acheron's crew on the _Enterprise_'s systems, including life support. Less travel time would mean less time being crowded, uncomfortable, and short on water and rations.

"Sounds like a great idea," he decided. "We'll do that, then."

"Very well. Stand by. The cruiser will contact you shortly." The screen went blank.

"Looks like we'll be home sooner than we thought."

STE

Neera woke suddenly, sitting straight up in the bed.

"Julio!" she yelled.

"Easy there," Delana called from across the room. "No one here but us."

"I'll _kill_ him!" Neera said furiously, getting to her feet.

"Who?" Delana asked.

"_Both_ of them!"

"Job's half done already, then," Delana said softly. Neera looked at her.

"Trip. . .he didn't make it," Delana said gently. "He flew the _Acheron_ into the weapon's platform. Destroyed it." There wasn't any easy way to say it.

Neera tried to speak, but words wouldn't come. She decided to sit back down, instead.

"Are they sure?" she finally managed.

"No way anyone could have survived," Delana nodded. "He rammed the platform, and then set off the nukes he meant to use on the planet. He's gone, Neera." Delana's voice was cracking. The loss of Trip had hit her hard.

"It's my fault," Neera murmured. "I convinced him not to attack the weapon while it was on planet. If I had let him. . . ."

"Then he might have been worse off," Delana cut in gently. "He might have lost himself completely. I don't know." A tear escaped her.

"You managed to help him," Neera replied.

"He hadn't killed an entire civilization, either," Delana pointed out, standing. "I'm going to rest, since you're awake, and uninjured. I. . .I'm tired. So very tired. We're sharing these quarters, I'm afraid," she added. "_Enterprise_ is pretty crowded."

"The crew?" Neera asked.

"All present and accounted for," Delana nodded. "They're spread across the ship, in some cases, but mostly bunked in a cargo bay. Be a very intimate ride home, I guess." Delana stretched out on the large bed.

"Try and rest," Neera soothed. "I'll go and see what I can find out."

"I'm sorry, Neera," Delana was crying now.

"Me, too." She leaned down and kissed Delana's forehead softly. "Sleep."

STE

"So you're gonna ride home in that thing?" Shran asked.

"Looks that way. Their ship is faster than ours," Archer shrugged.

"Safe travel, then, friend Pinkskin," Shran nodded. "Next time we meet, we'll hoist a glass of Andoria's finest, and remember lost friends and ship mates."

"I could use something like that," Archer admitted, his guilt over Trip resurfacing. "Thanks again, Shran."

"Any time, Archer," Shran smiled. "I like you owing me one," he laughed, and cut the feed. Standing, he looked at his helmsman and coms officer.

"Advise the others. Set course for home. Warp 4."

Soon the Andorian cruisers were on their way back to their own space. Heavy one human.

STE

"Before you kill me. . . ." Julio started.

"Shut up," Neera growled, and drew the man into an embrace. "It's all right," she whispered.

"I'm so sorry, sister," he whispered back. "So very sorry."

"So am I," she replied, releasing him. "Do we know anything yet?"

"The Xindi are giving us a ride back home," Julio said. "Those giant Manatee cruisers can take _Enterprise_ aboard, and then use some kind of wormhole manipulator to travel way faster than normal. Shouldn't be long before we're home."

"I'll contact Janos, and ask that he have a ship ready for us," Neera nodded. "We can all get back to the station, and then. . .well, I don't know. We'll see, I guess."

STE

The trip from Earth to the Expanse had taken Enterprise six weeks.

The trip from Azati Prime to Earth had taken eight days.

"I would love to have this technology," Archer shook his head in disbelief.

"Perhaps we will share it," Keras shrugged.

"Save it for the negotiations," Archer advised. "I'll tell Starfleet you have the tech, and you can offer it as some kind of concession, somewhere along the way. Might go a long way toward establishing the trust you need."

"Why would you help us in this manner?" Keras asked.

"It's what human's do, Keras," Jon shrugged. "We're just built that way, I guess." He stood.

"I need to get to _Enterprise_, and launch. If we don't, then you may be attacked."

"Very well."

Archer had been in a funk the entire trip home. He was constantly aware of the hostility of the _Acheron _crewmembers, but he didn't, couldn't, blame them. He was at least partly to blame for the loss of their ship, and their Captain.

Neera, who was decidedly less hostile that the others, had ruled the crew with an iron first during the voyage home, and there had been no trouble of any kind, either for him personally, or for the _Enterprise_ crew.

Of course, some of his own crew were just as pissed at him as the _Acheron_ crew were. Again, he didn't blame them.

Mostly, he blamed himself. He'd lost his best friend. Trip had sacrificed himself to correct a mistake that Archer had made. Jon was seriously considering resigning when he reached home, and had secured an agreement between Earth and the Xindi. He hadn't managed the situation well at all.

The only consolation he had was that so few had died. And weighed against how poorly he'd managed the situation, that wasn't much.

STE

"Welcome home, _Enterprise_," Forrest smiled.

"There are three other ships behind us, Admiral," Jon said at one. "Each bears a representative of the Xindi. Three of their five races would like to discuss a peace treaty, and perhaps an alliance between themselves and Earth."

"What?" Forrest lost his smile.

"The Xindi had another, more powerful weapon, that has been destroyed," Jon went on. "The Xindi are comprised of five individual races, three of which want peace. The other two, not so much. The ships behind me represent those who want peace."

"Jon, that's. . .that's incredible," Forrest was stunned.

"It wasn't cheap," Jon shrugged. "We'll report when we're closer, but for now I wanted you to know these three ships are friendlies."

"I'll advise the patrols at once."

"Thank you, Admiral. We'll see you soon."

"I need access to your communications, Captain," Neera spoke softly, but urgently.

"Why?"

"_Acheron_'s sister ship may be on station nearby," Neera informed him. "If so, I need to let them know these ship's aren't a threat."

"We're being hailed," Hoshi said urgently. "Origin unknown."

"Put it up," Archer ordered. The screen filled with a very dignified looking man dressed in black armor.

"My name is Primeter Vitorian, Captain of the warship _Styx_. Are the sh. . .Neera?" he cut himself off.

"Hello, Prim," Neera managed a weak smiled. "I thought someone might be lurking nearby."

"Lurking is hardly dignified," the man sniffed. "You are well?"

"We are, and the three alien ships are friendly," she replied.

"Tucker?"

Neera shook her head slowly, tears trickling.

"I am sorry," the man bowed. "Very well. Neera, transport is available. You know where. We will return to station. _Styx_, clear." With that, the screen went blank.

"Who was that?" Archer demanded.

"I told you, Captain," Neera looked at him. "Earth will not again fall victim to another attack like the Xindi. They are here to ensure Earth's survival. A final legacy of Trip Tucker."

"And that is all you need to know." With that the Amazon turned and left the bridge, her bearing as regal as any Queen in Earth's history.

Archer let her go, shaking his head.

STE

Starfleet security made noises about detaining _Acheron_'s crew, so the _Athena_ made contact in space, far outside Earth's orbit, and the two ship's docked long enough for the _Acheron_'s crew to disembark. Starfleet grumbled, but with another ship like _Acheron_ in the vicinity, there wasn't much they could do about it.

Archer didn't want them to have to face Starfleet, anyway. They had been through enough.

Neera was the last to leave.

"Good-bye, Captain," she had said simply. "We will not likely meet again."

"I'm sorry, Neera," he said softly. "If it hadn't been for me, then Trip. . . ."

"No," Neera shook her head. "He stopped because of me, Captain. I have this from his own mouth. You have no blame in this." She faced him.

"You and your crew did well, Captain. Good luck." She went through the lock without another word.

Two minutes later _Athena_, clear of the other ships, went to warp, destination unknown.

STE

"Jon, you should have brought them here for debriefing," Forrest said. "You had no right to simply release them."

"They weren't prisoners, Max," Archer said calmly. Twenty-four hours after Neera and the other had departed, Archer was sitting in Forrest's office. A shower, shave, and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep had gone a long way toward helping him regain his equilibrium. He had needed it.

"They had information we needed!" Forrest declared. "According to your reports, that ship is, was, the most advanced ship in the Alpha quadrant. We can't have people running around with that kind of firepower who aren't accountable!"

"Bull shit," Archer shot back. "If it weren't for them, _Enterprise_ wouldn't have returned. The Xindi would have launched a much more powerful weapon that would have killed all life on this planet. And," he added, smirking, "another ship, just like it, is sitting out there somewhere, just out of sensor range, protecting this planet right now."

"What?"

"And you can imagine how they might have reacted to having their people taken into custody, after all they've sacrificed. Not to mention how it would read in the newsies."

"Who are they working for?" Forrest demanded.

"No idea," Archer replied honestly. "Other than Earth. One of their ships will likely be here, in the vicinity, from now on. It seems their only real concern is preventing another attack on Earth." He leaned forward.

"This is one gift horse you'd better not try checking the teeth of," he warned. "You might get bit."

STE

"Why aren't you dead?"

"I love you too," Trip snorted, looking at the screen where Janos was glaring at him. It was three fifteen in the morning, Earth time.

"Even returning from the _dead_, you disturb my sleep," the older man growled. "And you destroyed a ship that cost me more than some planets!"

"I'm fine," Trip nodded. "Little sore, but other'n that, I'm okay." Janos' look softened a millimeter. Maybe two.

"I knew you would survive, somehow," he smiled faintly.

"Thanks to an Andorian Commander," Trip explained quickly. "And I'm sorry 'bout the ship, I am," he added contritely. "There just wasn't another way, sir."

"So I have been told," Janos nodded. "It is of no consequence. There are other ships. You saved your crew, you survived, and the weapon is destroyed. There is talk of a peace treaty, even, between some of the Xindi and Earth."

"Heard that myself. Know the other two are still out there, though, and they know how the weapon was built. If they can get the resources, they'll probably try to do it again, one day."

"Then we'll have to make sure that doesn't happen," Janos said simply. "What are you going to do now, Charles?"

"Well, I guess, if you wanna give me another ship, I'll kill me some slavers. Maybe some pirates. Odd Romulan or two, chance comes up. I'm pretty flexible, these days."

"You've changed, son," Janos' look grew concerned. "I regret that. . . ."

"Don't," Trip raised a hand to forestall the statement. "I asked for it. No one to blame for whatever I am now but me. Can't really even blame the Xindi. I didn't have to do it."

"That does not ease my conscience." Janos was being as open and honest as Trip had ever seen him be.

"I can't undo it," Trip shrugged. "No point in worryin' 'bout it now. What you want me to do?"

"There's a new ship, just completed," Janos sighed. "I'm sure you know that, since you're calling me from the station."

"I seen it," Trip nodded.

"It's your's, if you want it. Amazing how hard it is to crew these things," Janos snorted. "We may have to start a training academy of our own."

"Not a bad idea," Trip nodded. "I'm gonna beef up security here, too. I figure the weapons we're puttin' on the ships can be used to keep the station secure."

"Whatever you feel necessary," Janos nodded. "Space is your domain, Charles, not mine. I understand that your symbiot is. . .special," he added.

"So I understand," Trip smiled thinly. "Still workin' that out."

"I would be very interested in anything he can tell you about his. . .kind, I suppose. We know so very little. . . ."

"If he tells me, I'll tell you," Trip promised. "All I can promise. He ain't always forthcomin'. Talks a lot like you do, sometimes," he added, grinning.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Janos snorted.

"Janos, we've spent a lot of money," Trip mentioned. "I need to know where the bottom is. We built _Acheron_, and the others, without a budget. We can't keep doing that, I reckon."

"When you get near the bottom, I'll let you know," was all Janos would say. "I've had nearly three thousand years to accumulate wealth of all kinds. My shipping business does pretty well, even now, and Kov has. . .well, I'll let him show you. Anyway, for now, money is not the problem. People are."

"Well, we'll work on it," Trip sighed. "Meanwhile, I guess I better get to work."

"Get some sleep first, you look like hell," Janos snorted. "And one other thing," he added, frowning.

"What?"

"_Put a damn clock on that station set to Earth time_!" he yelled back.

"I'll see to it," Trip laughed as Janos scowled once more, and cut the signal.

STE

There were parties, celebrations, congratulations, promotions, exaltations. The _Acheron_'s crew did not partake. Three more weeks in cramped quarters saw them arrive back at the station they called home. Most had decided whether they would stay or not, by then. For some, there was no better alternative. For others, no other alternative was desired.

Tala Thy'lek was morose as she watched the station grow in the view port. She was convinced that another ship would be unlikely to attract her as _Acheron_ had. And without Trip Tucker, she wasn't really interested, anyway.

Neera watched with apprehension, and relief. Once on the station, her duties to the crew would be ended. She would then be able to focus on herself, for a change. She didn't look forward to it, but knew it was needed.

Delana Grix was unsure of what to do next. She was sure that the newest ship, visible in the docks, would need a doctor. If they didn't already have one, perhaps she'd offer her own services. She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything at the moment, except the hole in her heart. She doubted it would ever be filled.

Dru'hak brooded, Kron by his side doing the same. Neither had made any kind of decision about what they would do now.

"Your brother did well," the elder stated.

"He is adequate," Kron nodded, almost against his will.

"He is more than that," Dru'hak chuckled. "He has much yet to learn, but he performed his duties well."

"I suppose," Kron nodded again.

"What will you do?"

"I do not know," Kron admitted. "I can not imagine, as yet, following another."

"I have lost leaders," Dru'hak nodded. "It is a hard thing, Kron, to have served a great man, and then have him lost."

"So I am learning."

"I'm very proud of you," his elder said suddenly. "You were, and remain, a worthy retainer of a great house. It has been an honor to serve that House alongside you." Kron looked up slowly.

"I thank you," he said gently. "And he was not the first great man I have followed," he added, looking into his former teacher's eyes. A slap on his shoulder was the only reply as Dru'hak rose to gather his men. Their job was at an end.

STE

_Athena_ docked with the station, and the crew stood ready to disembark. No one spoke, each lost in their own thoughts. The air lock cycled, and the ship's com announced that the seal was good. The doors opened, revealing a lone figure standing on the other side, waiting.

"Took you long enough," Trip groused good naturedly.

Pandemonium reigned for quite some time.

"All right, all right, settle down. Settle down!" Trip yelled, and quiet fell across the assembled crew.

"You did good, all o' you," Trip told them. "I figure some o' ya are done with this kinda work. If you are, then you got pay comin', and a ride to wherever you need to be."

"But. . .if ya wanna go back out, I got a place for all o' ya on mah new ship," he grinned. "This time, we're goin' huntin' Orions. We're gonna put an end to the slave trade. Period. Once we're done, won't be no slavers in the Alpha Quadrant. After that, well, there's the Naussican's, and somewhere on the horizon might be the Romulan Empire." He paused.

"Some of you, you ain't warriors, and don' wanna be. I understand that. But if you're up for a fight, then come with me," he smiled. "It'll be fun."

No one wanted to be left behind.

STE

"What will you call her?" Kov asked, standing beside Trip as the man known as Grim looked out at his new ship, a near carbon copy of _Acheron_.

"_Reaper," _Trip smiled. "Can't figure a better name, considerin'."

"I like it," the emotional Vulcan nodded.

"What're you gonna do?" Trip asked.

"Well, after you left, I started designing a new type of cargo ship," Kov shrugged. "I sold the idea to the Boss, and we've already laid the hulls for six of them. I'll be busy for a while, I guess."

"He told me something about it. No space for you, then?" Trip asked.

"One day," Kov nodded. "Right now, I need to see this done. Since it was my idea, I want it to be right. You understand."

"I do indeed," Trip nodded. Behind Kov he saw Neera approaching, something he'd put off far too long. "I gotta go, Kov," he said simply. "Somethin' to take care of."

"I'll see you later. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?"

"For you I will be," Trip nodded. "Com me what time. I'd like to see the plans for the new ship line." Kov nodded, and set off in the opposite direction of Neera. Trip waited, letting her come to him.

_Patience is a virtue, Charles_, the symbiot almost whispered. _You have time aplenty, child_.

_Are you gonna be in my head all the time, teachin' me now_? Trip smiled mentally.

_That is what I do, Charles_, the symbiot's mirth was equally recognized. Then, it was gone.

"Trip," Neera started, then stopped. The two of them had had no time to speak since the _Athena_'s return until now. She was disappointed, but not surprised, that he had not sought her out.

"I hear you did good, lookin' after the crew," Trip said formally. "Well done."

"Thank you," Neera managed to nod. She didn't want to talk about the crew.

"You planning on goin' with me?" he asked. No sense in this being drug out.

"Do you want me to?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Up to you," he shrugged, looking back at the newly named _Reaper_. "I don't know what you got in mind. S'why I asked."

"We need to talk," Neera said softly.

"We are talkin'," Trip told, turning back to face her. "You ain't gotta come along, you don't wanna. I think I can manage. You're welcome to, though. That's up to you." He turned back to the ship.

"But not as my XO," he went on. "Second Officer, maybe, or security officer, if you'd rather."

Neera felt her heart breaking. She had lost his trust.

"If you want me to, I'll be glad to take either," she replied.

"Like I said, it's your choice," Trip shrugged again. "But understand somethin' right now. I got things I aim to do. Based on what happened at Azati Prime, you likely won't care for how I do'em. That's fine, so long as you follow orders. You can't step up, then don't sign up, Neera," he finished softly.

"Trip, I'm sorry," Neera tried to explain.

"I know," he replied gently. "But that won't cut it anymore, Neera. I got lucky, this time. We didn't lose anyone, and I even got pulled out in the last second. But things might have gone a lot different. And we lost our ship. Somethin' that shouldn't o' been needed. Wasn't needed." He turned away again.

"I won't let it happen again."

"I understand," Neera nodded, fighting back her tears. "It was a mistake."

"Made a lot o' mistakes," Trip nodded, thinking about himself. "I let too many people get across the line on me. Got in the way o' my decision makin'. I could have lost my entire crew, people who trusted me to get them home safe. To make the best decisions I could make for them."

"You don't want me on the crew, do you?" Neera almost whispered.

"I really don't know," Trip was honest. "I thought about it a lot on the way home. Almost didn't come home," he admitted. "Thought about just. . .meanderin'. But, I made a promise. I aim to keep my promises."

"Janos has put a lotta trust in me. Lot of faith that I'd get the job done. We could have lost Earth, if things hadn't worked out." His eyes were hard as he looked into her's.

"Time's are changin'. Ain't no room for things like mercy for some o' the enemies we have, or might have in the future. I sacrificed a normal life to end the threat of the Xindi. And I failed," he added.

"No you didn't!" Neera exclaimed. "The weapon. . . ."

"The Reptilians, and the Insectoids are still out there, and know how to build another one," Trip cut her off. "I'm sure ole Jon is tickled pink with his treaty. Probably get a promotion, 'fore it's all over with. Make the talk show circuit. Lord knows, he's got the charisma for it," he chuckled darkly.

"But the fact that three of the five want peace don't erase the threat o' the other two. That's just a plain fact. Now, we'll always be lookin' over our shoulder, waitin' for them to hit us. And that's my fault," he added. "I'm the one who let'em live. When I had the chance to end it all, I didn't take it. And now, a lotta other folks may pay for it one day."

"So before you decide to come along, you be sure that you're willin' to do whatever it takes ta get the job done. I won't accept anything else. Not from you, not from anyone. Understand?"

Neera nodded, and finally lost the battle with her tears.

"We're through, aren't we, Trip?" she asked, managing not to sob.

"Dunno," Trip shrugged. "Time passes different now. But. . .for now, I reckon it's better. I can't allow personal feelin's to keep interferin'. You, Jon, whoever. I know what needs to be done, and I aim to do it. Things are outta hand, and I'm tired o' Earth and it's people bein' the punchin' bags for every body else. That ends. Soon."

"I understand," she said, her voice clouded with emotion. "I am so sorry."

"Me too."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her to think about things on her own.

_Have you made the best decision, Charles_? the symbiot asked.

_Time'll tell, I guess_, Trip anwered the only way he knew how.

_You are hard, Charles, and grow harder each day_, the symbiot noted. _Do not allow that to cost you._

_It already cost me_, Trip shrugged mentally. _It was a mistake to get involved with her. I see that now, where I couldn't before. I still love her, I think, but even that's cloudy, now. I'm confused, I'm hurt, and not a little mad. This ain't the right time to deal with what lies between us. You said yourself, patience is a virtue. Someday, I might be the man she needs me to be. Right now, I don't think I am, or can be. _

_This is better for her_, he concluded.

_You are a better man than you give yourself credit for, Charles. And you have spoken well. Now, shall we 'kill us some slavers'?_

"Yeah," Trip nodded, speaking aloud. "Let's us do that."

_And so this tale ends. If I'm able, there will be more of this one. As I said before, I think there'll be three of these telling the entire story, but I'm never quite sure. I hope you enjoyed a trip into Neverland, where things that shouldn't be, are._

_Bad Karma00_


End file.
